Full Moon Rising
by daemonwolf
Summary: Another one of those pesky 'what if' stories. Werewolf!Harry. Dead in the water, in need of massive edits and restructuring if I ever find the time to.
1. Marriage Vows

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Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13 (for now, may change)

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Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline. JK Rowling is the one who thoughtfully provided the characters and timeline for me to play with.

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Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

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Summary: Another one of those pesky 'what if?' stories. But, forgoing the 'what if' part of the summary, allow me to tell you a secret. (glances around furtively) pssst! _Harry's a werewolf!_

Notes: Funny thing happened one day... I was schlepping about ff.net and found a were-wolf story that, surprisingly, was _not_ Lupin-centric. So I thought to myself: are there anymore like this one? Or is it (gasp) one of a kind? (a _very_ rare breed at ff.net, I know) With that question in mind, I searched. And I searched, and I came up with... nada. So it was with head hung low that I signed off the 'net, but then a thought occurred to me. Why don't I just write one of my own? Hardly surprising, yes... but what _is_ surprising is that for this, unlike my ahem OTHER fics, most of which never made it off paper, this one has an _actual_ plotline, outline, sequal, and spin-off stories that are already in the works! So it is with _great_ pleasure that I introduce to you a side of Harry Potter that I can confidently say has ne'er been seen before—a hairier, scarier side that only comes out with the full moon. Ladies and germs, guys and dolls, may I present:

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter One: Marriage Vows

"Do you, James Potter take Lily-Rose Evans to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, through sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"And do you, Lily-Rose Evans take James Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, through sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Then, by the power vested in me by the Church of England and our Lord Above, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

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James Potter laughed as he swung his new bride over the threshold of their home in Godric's Hollow.

"Welcome home, love," he said, grinning foolishly as he captured Lily Ev—no—_Potter's_ lips in a searing kiss.

"Thank you, husband," Lily returned as soon as she could get her breath back. Eyeing their home, she shivered suddenly in James' arms.

"Cold?" James asked as he set her on the ground, his eyes immediately becoming concerned.

Lily shook her head and chuckled to herself at her sudden reaction to the change in her life that had taken place at eleven a.m. earlier that day. "Prongs, darling, guess what?" she asked, green eyes glowing with mischief.

"What?" James asked, bemused.

"We're _married_, darling," Lily whispered, standing on tip-toe to reach her husband's ear.

James chuckled, and hung his head in mock-disappointment. "And here I was thinking you were going to tell me you were pregnant. Damn."

Lily smacked his shoulder lightly as she passed him to hang up the coat that had been protecting her wedding dress from the elements. "If you're that disappointed, love, you know we can always try again..." she let the rest of the sentence hang as she turned around and waggled an eyebrow suggestively.

All speech deserted James as he stared at his bride for a long moment. She had opted to don a traditional, non-magical wedding dress in an acknowledgement to her muggle heritage. James thought the dress made her look even more beautiful than a magical one would have. The wedding dresses featured in _Witch Weekly_ always came with certain charms that would shape the body of the wearer into a slimmer, prettier form. There were also charms mimicking the voices of songbirds, the glow of sunbeams across the wearer's face, and (for a nominal fee) there was a specific charm that, when properly cast would produce a curtain of rose petals constantly falling over the bride in lieu of actual flower girls. (Who, the periodical suggested, were rather pesky creatures that one would rather _not_ deal with on one's wedding day, especially if said flower children were the products of a particularly nasty pair of relatives.)

But his Lily would have none of that. Compared to the aforementioned extravagances, her dress was simplistic in its design, but it was that simplicity which made the dress beautiful. The bodice of Lily's dress was pure white with no decoration, excepting that it fit her form perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination. Two long sleeves hooked onto the bodice, leaving her shoulders bare. The sleeves were also pure white, tapering at the ends to form a point at the base of her knuckles. The skirt of the dress, however, was what had surprised James when he saw it for the first time as she walked down the aisle. Instead of the pure white of the bodice, the skirt was pleated, each pleat either white or pale green, accentuating the darker green of Lily's eyes. Her veil and train were also pale green, forcing James to think of dead kittens, lest the desire he felt for his soon-to-be wife show itself physically at a _most_ inopportune time. _Speaking of desire_...

His now 'lawfully wedded wife' was matching his stare, desire for him flushing her face. Abruptly she shook herself and flashed her best 'come hither' smile. "You want me? Come and claim me." Gathering her skirts, she dashed past her bemused husband and up the stairs to their room. James' eyes were still glassed over, uncomprehending the fact that the object of his desire had just fled the room. In a manner similar to his wife's, he shook himself and galloped like the stag whose form he periodically took up the stairs to where his best friend, his lover, his _wife_, was waiting for him.

Note: Y'all already know I don't own anything in this here story... but there is one other thing. A bit of dialogue I, aheh, borrowed from another fanfic. To the author who had me in stitches at the 'killing kittens' comment, I am REALLY sorry I can't remember your pen name, but let me know so I can ask (and thank) you properly! Now that that's taken care of, that little blue button at the bottom of the screen is looking mighty_ inviting, wouldn't you say?_


	2. Encounters with Werewolves

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**_Title: _Full Moon Rising**

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**_Author: _daemonwolf**

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**_Rating: _**PG-13 (for now, may change)

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**_Distribution: _**ask, and ye shall receive

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**_Notes:_** Just a few replies to my first four reviewers...

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**Nixiedark:** Well, looks like you won't have to kill me now... um, may I make a suggestion though? Try decaffeinated coffee. Believe me, it'll do wonders for hyperness.

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**The Vampire Story Hunter:** Heh, glad you've decided to try something new!

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**:** Umm... here's more? It'd have been nice if I knew your name.... gets kinda awkward when you're trying to thank your reviewers and you don't know who they are... huh, I didn't even know you _could_ review without leaving a name. (shrug)

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**aleclovemax:** Here's your continuation!

Alrighty kiddies, this is the part where I shut up and you get to enjoy.....

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Full Moon Rising  
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_Chapter Two: Encounters with Werewolves  
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End of First Trimester

The medium-sized house in the middle of Godric's Hollow, or the 'Marauders' Hideaway' as it was affectionately called, was filled to the rafters with people on the night that James and Lily decided to reveal their pregnancy to what had become their make-shift family. All of the Marauders were present, as well as some of their friends from the Auror Academy and the Order. Lily glanced at James, her eyes twinkling with excitement. She after all had every right to be happy, with a son on the way and a loving husband and family by her side.

The time was nearing midnight when Lily and James decided to reveal their news to the party-goers. "If I could have your attention, please?" James called, tapping his wand against a wineglass. "Lily has something she'd like to share with you all."

With a smile to her husband, Lily stood up and smiled at the people gathered. "My friends, I have wonderful news; I'm going to have a baby!" Her announcement was met with stunned silence for a moment, then, as people recovered their senses, a loud cheering broke out for the happy couple.

The party continued long into the night. Good friends, good food, and a seemingly endless supply of Firewhiskey contributed to the festivities. Both Lily and James were congratulated left, right, and center; and people only began to leave when the sky lightened to gray outside. Eventually only the core of Marauders were left, allowing each of them to make their congratulations known personally.

Sirius leapt upon Lily as soon as the last non-Marauder was gone, changing mid-way to his dog form so that as he landed, it was with his paws on her shoulders and his tongue frantically licking her face. Lily only laughed and shouted, "down, boy!" leaving the dog to start running in circles in a futile effort to catch his own tail.

Remus, on the other hand, although he was just as happy as the dog, simply contained it better. "Lily, darling, congrats," he said, wrapping the pregnant woman in a tight hug. Without warning, he picked her up and swung her around, shouting "Lily's been knocked up!" before pulling her back into another bone-crushing hug. "We're all very happy for you," he whispered, finally letting the out-of-breath woman go.

"Thanks Remus," she replied when she could speak again. She met his smoky gray eyes shyly, wondering what would've happened had things been different for him—in every way he was the ideal man, a quiet intellectual who knew how to have a good time. The only slur on his record was the curse of lycanthropy that kept him from having a _real_ life not dictated by the moon. _Would it have been he that I married? Would the child now in my womb be his? What—_she shook her head violently, stopping that train of thought in its tracks. She was married now, with a son on the way. It wasn't healthy to be thinking of one of her husband's best friends in such a manner, _especially_ after everything they'd been through together. Shaken at her self-doubt, Lily backed into her husband's embrace as Peter chose the momentary silence to get his two knuts worth in.

"Congratulations, Lily," he said formally. "May the both of you live long and prosper." He flashed the Vulcan symbol at them, and grinned in embarrassment as everyone around him burst out laughing. Lily, however, only smiled and formed her own hand into the symbol, then grabbed the short, balding man into a hug.

"Thanks, Wormtail. You do know you're welcome to stay here with us."

Peter only shook his head. They had been through this same spiel before, trying to get him to move in with the rest of them. "As I've said before, no thanks. I don't know if I could stand living in the same house with a werewolf, two men who are sometimes not, and yourself. Especially while you're pregnant. I think I'd go crazy!"

Lily cuffed him across the head gently. "Gee, thanks, Wormtail. Don't I feel loved."

Sirius resumed his human guise and stepped in. "Don't forget, wormy. You'll always be one of us. Ain't no way to get rid of the Marauders!" He winked at the shorter man. "Which means, of course that eventually we _will_ find out why you're so adverse to sharing the house with us. And then we'll ask her to become one of us!" While the rest of the Marauders were laughing at Sirius' antics, no one noticed Peter stiffen at the dog's comment that the Marauders would find him out.

Fortunately for him, James stepped in. "Alright gents, we haven't gotten to the best part yet."

Sirius interrupted. "Twins!"

James only laughed, leaving his wife to continue. "Padfoot, dear, would you do us, " she looked to James, "the great honor of becoming our son's godfather?" As she watched, Sirius seemed to collapse under the weight of something intangible. James suspected it was responsibility. _Good, _he thought, _now the old dog with _have _to calm down._ For they had chosen Sirius to be their unborn son's godfather for two reasons. The first was that he was James' best friend in the entire world, even before they had met Remus and Peter, and the second was that James hoped the responsibility of caring for a child would settle the sometimes too-wild man down.

With startling gravity that the other Marauders were shocked to see him possess, Sirius dropped to one knee and took Lily's hand in his. "Lily-Rose Evans-Potter? I would be—honored—to be your child's godfather." He kissed her hand, the picture of seriousness, then swept her into a hug as James looked on with pride. _See?_ He told himself, _I told you so._

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Methinks I'll leave it here for now. Originally the chapter continued on, but it's late, I'm tired, and this seemed a better place to end it than it had in the first draft. Ergo, I end. Ta-ta for now, tee-hee for then!


	3. Encounters with Werewolves Part Two

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Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

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Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

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Notes: Welcome back, kiddies... first a couple of replies:

Paige: As per your request, here, is more.

Final Spirit: Nice to see someone who is as happy about this idea as I am... and thanks for putting me on your fave stories list, by the bye!

: Yet again with the lack of a name? Very well then. Ladies an' gents, from now on, my one and only COMPLETELY anonymous reviewer now has a name. Your name is... Whothehellareyou? (WtHaY? for short)

So! Thanks for the reviews all, now sit back, relax, and prepare to enjoy!

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter Three: Encounters with Werewolves Part Two

Middle of Third Trimester

"Watch it, Moony! Lady with a baby coming through—ow, dammit!"

Remus, who was currently squished up against the wall of the entryway to let Lily pass, spun back around to face her, his face the picture of concern for the pregnant woman. "Alright there, Lily?"

Lily grimaced, and pointed to her belly in explanation. "Yeah. This kid's a kicker. That's the tenth time today he's decided to see how much he can make my belly expand with one kick. Ow! Jeez..." She looked at her best friend pleadingly. "Why's it always the women that have to suffer, huh? Why can't you guys take your turn?"

Remus could only smirk at the griping woman as she walked carefully down the steps to the sidewalk outside. "Lily, darling. You know as well as I do that if pregnancy were left to the menfolk, the human race would be extinct within a couple generations. Think of this," he gestured to her distended belly, "as a testament to the strength and fortitude of the woman: she who brings life."

Lily muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

"What was that?"

Lily smiled toothily back at Remus. "Oh, nothing, dear _Remus_. Come, walk with me. I always find the child less likely to kick when I've been active." She preceded him to the end of the driveway to wait while he locked the front door before joining her.

Remus, for his part, took the opportunity of the long walk up the drive to take in every aspect of Lily—the woman who might've, in a different world, become his own. He couldn't help but ponder what might've been different. There was, of course, the lycanthropy to consider, but had he been able to find a cure, what—he had to stop that train of thought in its tracks, having reached said woman and not about to clue her in on his little fantasies.

Lily, at that point was staring up in the sky, marveling at the sun as it slowly made its way down to the earth. "I'd best make this walk a short one," she commented, still looking toward the sun. "The moon's full tonight, isn't it?" She turned to face Remus.

"Yeah, it is," Remus sighed, and bared his teeth in a grimace. "Damned lycanthropy." Without another word, Remus began stalking up the sidewalk, his arms wrapped around his own body as if cold; even though the night was balmy for July. Lily simply let him be for the time being. Merlin knew how she could get when confronted with some shortcoming of hers, and she wasn't about to try Remus' patience. However, feeling sorry for himself at this point in his life _was _going too far, so..."Remus, you know I love you, right?"

Remus stopped short, taken aback. His thoughts had once more wandered to the 'what-if' area of his brain, and Lily's simple statement had filled him briefly with so much elation and then left him abruptly as he realized the true meaning of her words. The result was he felt weak at the knees, then was so depressed his knees _became_ weak, and he fell ass-first to the sidewalk.

Lily only laughed a little as she pulled the confused were-wolf up from his ignominious seat on the ground. "I'll take that as a 'no I didn't.' Well, believe it, fur face. I love you, along with the rest of the Marauders." She wrapped her arm around his as they started walking. "And _because_ I do, you of all people should know that I love you for _who you are_, even when who you are includes fur and fangs." She stopped again suddenly, taking Remus by surprise. "That's why, Moony, there is _nothing_ for you to be ashamed of." She poked him in the chest. "_Nothing_! We're all of us here for you, so quit feeling sorry for yourself and come walk with me!"

Remus simply stared at her a while, marveling how a woman like her could love and respect him, even in his full feral glory, as one of her best friends and allies. Without a second thought he caught up to her and pulled her into a crushing hug, letting his feelings for her and his gratitude be understood without the use of words. As for Lily, she hugged him back just as hard, trying to be there for him the best way she could.

Suddenly, she got an idea. "Remus?"

He let go slowly and looked at her. "Yeah?"

She grinned up at the taller man. "Do me a favor, would you? I know James would probably be the one to teach our son, but seeing as he only learned because you were able to interpret the 'mumbo-jumbo' he so eloquently calls a book; and you and I _both _know neither Sirius nor Peter are up for the job," she stopped for a second to breathe. "Will you teach my son how to become an Animagus when he's old enough?"

Remus found himself once again floored by the kindness of his best friend's wife. "Of—of course, Lils. I'd be honored to."

But Lily wasn't done yet. "Will you also teach me? I meant it about wanting to be there for you. I won't be able to for the first few transformations, of course, but as my son grows older I want to be right there with you, Sirius, and James."

Remus smiled. "Alright, Lils, we'll start once that bundle of joy," he poked at her swollen belly, "is on the outside. Merlin help us if you learned how to transform and suddenly gave birth to a litter of puppies!"

Lily ducked her head and headbutted Remus. "Yeah, I doubt James would be too happy with a couple of puppies for children, especially when he's a stag himself. And speaking of transformations," she continued, looking uneasily into the swiftly darkening sky. "We should probably get you home. It's almost moonrise."

Remus took a look himself, surprised at how much time had passed. "Sounds like a plan to me, Lils." He turned around and began moving swiftly down the sidewalk to the Marauders' Hideaway and ultimately, the basement of the house where he would remain until sunrise with the company of Sirius Black and James Potter in their Animagus forms.

By the time the duo reached the sprawling building they called home, the moon was almost halfway over the treetops. _Thank Merlin the change doesn't start until the moon's completely visible, _Lily thought as she hustled Remus into the house. Midway to the basement, however, Remus stopped, his face contorted in pain. Immediately Lily's thoughts went to James, Sirius, and Peter, but her Padfoot and Prongs were out on Auror duty, while Peter was simply out. _Like he'd be any help anyway,_ Lily couldn't help but thinking, then immediately regretted it, knowing that any help would be appreciated right now. She glanced worriedly at Remus who was still fighting the pain of the transformation to get to the basement.

"Shit," was Remus' eloquent summation of his predicament, and he bolted for the basement door. As he undid the numerous locks, both magical and muggle that would normally keep him from getting _out_ of the basement, his hands began lengthening to paws tipped in razor-sharp claws. His head was also shifting to the muzzle of a wolf when Lily finally caught up to him.

"Dear Merlin," she gasped. The almost-completely transformed Remus glared at her. "No, Remus. Moony..."

The wolf that Remus had become lunged at her, claws extended. They ripped through the material of her pregnancy dress, cutting into the bare skin of her swollen belly. She screamed in both fright and pain as Remus' snout plunged downward, aiming for her belly. In a moment of desperation she covered herself with both arms, only to have them bitten instead. A second scream tore from her throat as the were-wolf raised his head; teeth dripping in her freshly spilled blood. His eyes gleamed in triumph as Lily, grasping at what little presence of mind she had left, searched frantically for her wand, which was presently out of reach in a pocket that had been torn loose and thrown across the room.

The were-wolf didn't have a second chance to attack, however, as a black blur _flew_ across the room and sunk canine teeth into the neck of the were-wolf. The creature howled in pain, but moved continually backwards so he could spin around and pin the dog between the wall and his own body. As both animals hit the wall, the 'wolf began tearing into the dog, ripping fur and flesh to shreds. The dog's whimper of pain was eclipsed suddenly by the scream of a stag and the sound of hooves as it pounded through the house.

Upon reaching the fighting canines, the stag lowered its antlers, positioning them to catch the 'wolf head-on. With a shriek, the monster was stuffed against the wall, held immobile by the stag's ten-point rack.

Sensing his chance, the dog let go his stranglehold on the 'wolf and transformed back into Sirius Black. His startlingly blue eyes grim, he opened the door to the basement and watched as the stag sidestepped, dragging the 'wolf along with him, still caught in his antlers. As they neared the door, Sirius transformed back into a dog and caught the werewolf's hind paws in his teeth, effectively immobilizing him.

Together, stag and dog stuffed the werewolf into the doorway, the stag closing and leaning on the door in order to allow Sirius to change back and replace all the locks on the door.

It was only then that either man noticed Lily.

Covered in her own blood, the once regal-looking woman was a mess, but what really threw both men for a loop was the fact that Lily's stomach was contracting—_she was having the baby!_

And with that, kiddies, I leave you. Tune in next time for the birth of Harry J. Potter. Au revoir!


	4. Birth of a Monster

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Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

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Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

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Notes: Wow... seriously, I didn't think it was _that_ evil of a cliffy, but then again, I am the author... aheh... ::ducks rotten tomatoes:: oo Sorry 'bout that. And sorry for the sorta-long-kinda wait. As I mentioned in my bio (if any of y'all bother to read those things...) there were... extenuating circumstances (as well as a work-related injury... mrf.). So again, I apologize for the long wait. ::ducks rotten cabbages:: jeeze, y'all are a hard lot to please.

Speaking of hard to please.. I really didn't think too much about the reactions of James and Sirius to Remus' biting of Lily. After all, this is _supposed_ to be a Harry-centric fic (yeah, I know... I'm gettin' there, alright?) so my main concern at the moment is actually _getting_ to the good stuff. However, **before** you start the throwing of the rotten vegetables once more, there is good news for those who want Remus to get his (and all those Remus/Lily 'shippers out there... [cough cough hack hack]). As of now, I've a fic in the works that will deal with that _very_ issue. I make no promises, but the first chapter of _His Lycan Lily_ (or something cooler if I can think of it) should be out after Voldemort makes his grand entrance.

One other thing; a (not-so) tiny disclaimer. I completely claim ownership of the midwife Kat and James' new middle name. Since I really _don't_ feel like searching my sister's room and reading through all five books JUST to find out if James has a middle name, his new middle name is.... Farfignewton. James Farfignewton Potter. Muahahahahaha! Fear the author with odd name-giving abilities.... yeah. The rest of the characters contained herein are property of one J.K. Rowling, the awesomest author around. The plotline and situations, however... ::grins demonically:: are _mine_. Hehehehe.

::whistles:: Holy flaming shit on a stick, batman, I didn't think this intro would be _that_ long... wow. Erm, you'll forgive me if I don't individually thank each and every one of you for reviewing, won't you? I'm getting just as anxious to get on with the fic as y'all must be. So... thanks guys! Reviews are what makes the world go roundy-round!

Now I shut up, and you get to enjoy!

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter Four: The Birth of a Monster

Both men stared at Lily as she struggled to speak. "James... the shock... the baby... I'm... having... JAMES!!!!" She screamed as another wave of pain hit her, this time located not around her injuries, but from deep within her belly.

Her scream of agony shook both men from their respective trances, forcing them into action. "Oh, shit," breathed Sirius.

James, still in shock over the entire episode, could only nod and respond, "yup. I think this definitely qualifies as an 'oh shit' moment. Or maybe an 'aw, fuck' moment. But I could be wrong. It could be—"

Lily chose that moment to interject her two cents. "James F. Potter, I'm gonna KILL you!" Her glare could've killed a lesser man. In James' case, he cringed in fear of his birthing wife. The aforementioned wife took a deep breath after the contraction was past, and continued her tirade. "You and that, that THING of yours DID this to me! Once this baby comes out I'm NEVER letting you near me AGAIN! JAAAAMMMEEESS!!!!" Her last was turned into a shriek of pain as another contraction hit her. James looked toward his best friend for help.

"Um," Sirius was stuck for ideas. Where was Remus when you needed him? _Oh yeah._ He took a breath, and searched his mind for someone who could help. An ex-girlfriend maybe? _That's it!_ "James, there's this girl I used to go out with. She's a medi-witch and part-time midwife. She—"

James stopped his best friend. "Bring her here, dammit! We need all the help we can get!" With a sharp crack, Sirius disappeared leaving James to deal with his _very_ pissed off wife.

Unheeding of her injuries (since she was far beyond any external pain), James dragged Lily over to the sofa in the next room, so she could lean against something other than the wall in the hallway. After making certain she was as comfortable as someone in her position could be, James pulled what he could from his small store of knowledge of Muggle birthing rituals and rushed into the kitchen to boil a pot of water before bring it and some clean towels from the linen closet to her side.

The nearby towels gave him an idea, and acting on it, he plunged one into the bowl of water and began cleaning off Lily's wounds. "Ouch," she hissed during one of the short moments of mental clarity between contractions and threats to his manhood. James could only nod between the tears that were threatening to spill from his frustrated eyes. He had known her wounds were going to be bad, but—to this extent? Her left arm had been completely chewed up—not even magic would be able to salvage what was left. As for her right arm... that, at least, had escaped most of the injury Remus had inflicted. _Remus,_ James thought bitterly, _you had better escape tonight, 'cause if you're still around in the morning, I'm gonna _kill_ you, you bastard._

After cleaning what he could, James kissed his wife's forehead, and surreptitiously scrubbed a couple of tears from his face so Lily wouldn't see. He was about to move her head to his lap when two sharp cracks shook the house's foundations. "James? Meet Kat, the mid-wife. Katie? James and Lily." Sirius made the quick introductions as Kat brought her medi-witch bag to bear.

"Nice to meet you both, James. Lily. Now both of you, to the next room, please." She held up a hand to forestall any objections. "I've handled births many times before, boys. Believe me, I know what I'm doing. And I see you do too, James," she nodded toward the bowl of water and the towels. "Thank you for that. Now get out of the way." With that said, she shoved both disgruntled men out of the room and slammed the door shut.

For the next four and a half hours, both James and Sirius would wince whenever Lily would scream. Neither man could stand the suspense, but Sirius broke first and jumped up to pace the room. He stopped short after a moment, and tried his luck at glaring a hole through the carpeting. "Damn his hide. I'll kill him. I swear, tomorrow morning..." He punched his fist against the wall.

James, however, had regressed back into a state of shock where he could ignore everything around him and work things out in his own mind, which was currently trying to wrap itself around the fact that _his_ wife was now a—a _werewolf_. Thus, Sirius' declaration went unheard, and after letting out a tired sigh, James slid down the wall he was leaning against to think. His mind went through all the usual avenues of denial and anger as he finally came to realize what was happening—what _would_ happen to their eclectic family. _She... she can't be. This is all a dream. Just one horrible nightmare that I'll wake up from in a minute... C'mon Jimbo, wake the fuck up!_ He pinched himself harshly, hoping against hope that this _was_ just a dream. _Ow. Aw, fuckbutt. This is no dream. It's my worst effing nightmare. Lily _and_ my son may be werewolves, all because I wasn't there to stop—_he paused for a moment, realizing just on whom the blame did belong. _–Remus. _He _did this. He'll pay for that. By Merlin, I swear he'll pay._

On the other side of the room, Sirius was experiencing similar mental turmoil as he, too, coped with the events of the day. _I swear, tomorrow the wolf dies. The bastard, how could he do this? To Lily, of all people? He's betrayed us all, _Sirius thought furiously, once again punching the wall next to him, only to come away sucking his slightly bruised knuckles. _Ow, dammit! That hurt!_ Standing there, knuckles red from repeated contact with the wall, Sirius' Auror training kicked in as he finally realized the futility of his anger.

_What the hell am I doing? _He asked himself, _Remus is one of my best friends, and here I stand condemning him to death for something beyond his control. We _know_ he's not in control when the beast comes to the surface. _He shook his head, chuckling self-depreciatingly. _You've hit a new low, Padfoot ol' boy. That 'wolf is about the best you've got at understanding what'll happen to Lily and her son, and all you can think of is revenge for a slight not caused to you personally! If anything, it should be _Lily_ thinking these thoughts, not you, you stupid mutt, _he went on, berating himself for his stupidity while James plotted revenge in the other corner. That was how Kat found them when she entered to announce the birth of a brand-new Potter.

"James? Sirius?" Kat's exhausted voice shook both men from their respective reveries. As James stood and Sirius walked over to place a supporting hand on Kat's shoulder, she glanced at the sometime-mutt gratefully before breaking the news to James. "James Potter," she began professionally. "Congratulations. It is now midnight on July thirty-first. You're a father," she smiled at the new father tiredly as she opened the door to Lily's room. "Go on, you can go in," she assured the suddenly struck-dumb father. Gulping, James nodded his thanks to the exhausted mid-wife before heading into the makeshift birthing room and closing the door softly behind him.

It was all he could to do to breathe when he saw his wife for the first time since the attack. She was reclining peacefully against the side of a nearby sofa, watching her son suckle at a breast. To James, she didn't seem to be in any pain whatsoever, and when he moved to get a closer look, he could see that every single wound she suffered during Remus' attack had healed, leaving her arms pearly smooth, without a single scar to tell what she had been through. He had to look again, just to be certain. _But that arm was mangled beyond repair,_ he exclaimed to himself as he sat down next to his wife. Aloud he said, "how are you feeling?"

Lily turned her head from its position watching the baby and looked at her husband sideways. "You know I didn't mean what I said back there, right?"

James had to think for a moment. Finally, he just said, "what?"

Lily sighed, and settled the baby in her embrace. "Never mind, my love. I'm fine. How are you doing?"

James' brain was confused, trying to follow his wife's train of thought. "Wait a moment. What was it that you could've regretted saying?"

Lily shook her head, dismissing the topic. "Forget it. You obviously weren't paying attention, and I was in the throes of labor. Don't worry yourself." She turned her head back to the child, who was now fast asleep. "We need a name, you know," she murmured softly.

James smiled, finally feeling as though he had a foothold in the conversation. "What, can't we just call him James Junior?"

Lily laughed softly, shaking her head in the negative. "No, silly. I know you're egotistical, but I didn't know you were _that _bad."

James sat up on his haunches, feigning offence. "What, me? Egotistical? Honey, who did you think you married?"

With a snort, Lily replied, "obviously someone who's _far_ too certain of himself, that's for sure. Hmm... I know! We can name him after my grandfather. He wasn't at _all_ like you," she grinned at her husband, mischief in her eyes.

"Oh, that hurts. All right then, which one? Harold or Jebediah?"

Lily winced at the mention of her mother's grandfather. "I don't know _what_ great-Grandmama was thinking when she named her son Jebediah. Seriously. Let's name him Harold. I always liked Grandpa Harry."

James nodded his assent. "Very well then, Harry it is. But since he _is_ being named after his mother's grandfather, can he take his father's name as his middle?"

Lily sighed, knowing there was no way she could win. "All right. Harold James Potter it is."

James grinned broadly and kissed both wife and son on their respective foreheads, then moved back to his wife to kiss her again on the lips, as if sealing the agreement. "I'll go tell Sirius. Get some rest, alright love?"

Lily nodded sleepily, and shifted baby Harry again in her arms. "Good night, darling," she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

"Good night," James whispered as silently, he left her sleeping form and shut the door softly behind him.

There, that looks like a good place to finish for now. Next time, enter Voldemort and prepare for the first chapter of His Lycan Lily, immediately following the posting of Voldemort... (I hope...) Toodles, y'all!


	5. Voldemort

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Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

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Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

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Notes: One little announcement before I get to the review replies; for the sake of my own sanity (and pure laziness), I've decided to change the date of Lily and James' death to the night of July thirtieth, thus giving Lily exactly one year as a werewolf and making Harry one year old. Again, this is simply for the sake of my own sanity (having to go back and re-write entire scenes because of a brain fart is _not_ one of my most fun things to do in the world), alright? So, well, deal with it. I claim artistic license, so nyah! XP

Review replies:

Final Spirit: Hmm... Somehow I get the feeling I wasn't as clear as I thought I had been in the previous chapter. All right... here goes: Full Moon Rising is **_not_** Marauders-centric. In between this chapter and the previous one, there is (almost) a yearlong gap because I simply think that year is not important in Harry Potter's development. Therefore, my next fanfic to be posted—_His Lycan Lily_, will deal with the year of _Lily's_ lycanthropy. **That** fic will be Remus/Lily, and Marauders-centric. In this one, they only provide a bit of background for Harry. Hopefully this explains all the confusion, I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it clear earlier. If anyone has any other questions, feel free to e-mail me or post your question in a review. My e-mail's for those with questions.

Mavahissss: heh, no, Remus won't die. He's important later on! And, as you so wished, here is more.

Satern Mya: Thanks for the compliment! As promised, I hereby present:

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter Five: Voldemort

The year passed by quickly for the most part. Every day, Remus, James, Peter, and Sirius went to work at the Aurors' Headquarters. Lily, on maternity leave, took care of baby Harry, except on the nights of her transformations. She was, the others thought, surprisingly upbeat about the whole thing. Remus was simply grateful she didn't blame him for her affliction. Sirius and James on the other hand had gone through all the usual avenues of grief and denial before finally dealing with Lily's lycanthropy in typical Marauder manner—beating the crap out of Remus for a few weeks until Lily finally set them both straight. Peter, it seemed, was the only one who didn't really have an opinion. Granted, he was also never around to give one, but the remaining Marauders simply chalked it up to a new girlfriend, whom he didn't want to frighten away by bringing his friends into the picture.

Three months before Harry's first birthday, Albus Dumbledore arrived at the Marauders' Hideaway with some disturbing news. "My new Divination teacher has prophesized," he proclaimed by way of greeting.

Lily clucked her tongue at her old Headmaster as she shifted Harry's weight in her arms. "Albus, you know none of us take stock in all that divination nonsense," she began.

"Not true, Lils," interrupted Sirius. "You of all people should know how obsessive Peter is about that junk."

Lily offered a wry smile to her friend. "I must admit I _had_ hoped he'd grown out of that habit. Where is he, by the way?"

"Off with his girlfriend, no doubt."

"Bah. That woman's taking up more and more of his time, and he won't even let us know who she is!" Lily exclaimed, nostrils flaring as her eyes took on the reddish hue of her wolf form. "He was such a good friend to me in school, I don't know why he's abandoning us now. It's not fair," she added petulantly, sticking out her bottom lip for emphasis.

Dumbledore had to stop himself from smiling at the young woman's burst of immaturity. "Despite Peter's transgressions, Lily, you still need to listen to the prophesy," he continued, drawing a silver bottle out of his sleeve. "Listen." He popped the cork. The four other adults gathered around the table leaned in to hear what the tiny bottle had to say.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ...And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives ...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

"There are only two people in the whole of the wizarding world who match this description—your young Harry, and Frank Longbottom's son." Dumbledore's tone was grave as he watched the implications of the prophesy set in. "You are no longer safe here, James. We should move—" But James would have none of it.

"No! Harry grows up normally, in _this _house. Not in some little hole in the wall shack where he lives in fear of his life for the rest of his days. I'll not have it!" He pounded the table, startling Harry into hysterics.

"James! Calm down! You've upset Harry," his wife glared at him reproachfully before turning back to the Headmaster. "There must be some other way. Couldn't we make this land unplottable, or make one of us Secret-Keeper?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Yes.. I believe a Secret-Keeper would work. We can't make the land unplottable without going through the Ministry—and Voldemort undoubtedly has spies in every department. Very well," he added, coming to a decision. "You will have until the end of the month to designate a Secret-Keeper, and I will transport him somewhere safe."

Lily grinned gratefully, and took her husband's hand. "You see, James! We'll be alright in the end."

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They didn't even need until the end of the month. Before the week was out, James had declared that he trusted no one more than his best friend Sirius Black, and so Sirius was granted the highest power of protection available for Secret-Keepers. Unfortunately, unlike his best friend, Sirius had some doubts as to whether he could withstand the pressure of a session of Cruatius torture. So, afraid for the life of his Godson and his best friends, Sirius went to James a month later to plead with him to switch Secret-Keepers. "Please, James. Peter would make a much better Keeper than I ever could. Hell, he's never around anyway, so Voldemort would have to look harder for him than he would for any of us!" James hesitated, undecided. "Just think about it for a while, alright?"

After their encounter, Sirius didn't see his best friend until the week before Harry's first birthday. "Padfoot, old friend, alright. I'll switch to Peter. But it'll be the Marauders' secret, all right? Hey, think about it, if Voldemort still thinks you're the Secret-Keeper, he won't be able to get any information out of you!"

Sirius laughed morbidly. "Yeah. I'll just get tortured to death, knowing the rest of you are safe. Gee, thanks buddy."

James' face fell. "Sirius, if you don't want to..."

"Hey, it's me, alright? You know I'd go down swinging for you any day. It's just I'd rather go down _not_ having any information to share with Lord I'm-a-douchbag that could hurt you, Lils or mini-Prongs."

James chuckled. "Works for me. I'll bring Remus and Pete down to the house tonight."

Sirius nodded, "I'll be there."

James flashed his friend a grin, then left the small flat Sirius was staying at as Secret-Keeper.

* * *

That night, after the ceremony was performed and the Secret-Keeping duties switched from Sirius to Peter, Peter walked alone down a side street to his own slightly run-down hideaway. After hanging up his cloak, he threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fire and stuck his head in, muttering, "_the Riddle House._" His head appeared in the sitting room fireplace, where a lanky man sat, staring at the flames, his red eyes glowing demonically in the firelight. "Milord," Peter said reverently, bowing his head from its place in the fire.

"What is it that you want, Wormtail?" The man's voice cut through the silence of the mansion harshly.

"Milord, the target is within sight."

Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Spare me the muggle space-talk. Do you know where the Potters are, or don't you?"

"I do," Peter Pettigrew replied. There was no hesitation in his voice as he sold out his friends—the only friends he had had since his Hogwarts days.

"Very good, my servant. Very good, indeed."

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One week later, Lily was sitting at the kitchen table as she prepared a list of last-minute birthday decorations for Remus to fetch. "Remus, dear, would you do me a huge favor?" She called up the stairs, to where Remus was reading in his room.

As he heard Lily's voice, Remus poked his head out the door. "What is it that you want, Lily?"

"Would you be a dear and buy these supplies? I completely forgot in wake of that Secret-Keeping thing, and both James and Sirius are over at his place, pretending he's still the Keeper."

Remus smiled, a hint of the affection for Lily he had accumulated during their times as werewolves. _Good thing Harry's not a 'wolf_, he thought wryly. _If he was around, half of what Lily and I discovered wouldn't have happened._ "Sure, Lils, I'll get right on it," he called back, ducking back into his room to grab his cloak and shoes before heading out to the store.

Before Remus returned, James returned home from his nightly card game with Sirius. "How's my beautiful wife and son?" he asked as he swept Lily into a hug.

"Oof," was her reply.

James looked at her quizzically from her smashed position against his chest. "'Oof?' I get home from the wars, and all you can say is 'oof'?"

Lily sighed. "Home from the wars? Not likely. Home from your nightly card game, more like. And 'oof' was because I couldn't _breathe_, much less speak!" She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Now help me out by putting up some of the decorations. I'm going to put Harry down for the night."

James stared appreciatively at his wife's backside as she sashayed over to Harry's crib and took him up the stairs. Halfway up, she turned. "I love you, you idiot."

James grinned. "And I too, Princess Wolf." Lily blushed at her acquired nickname, and walked up the rest of the stairs. "Now," James said to himself, rubbing his hands together, "what to do about the decorations."

He had finished with the kitchen and was about to decorate the living room when the telltale buzz of wards being breached got his attention. "Merlin, no. Not now. Not on Harry's birthday," he muttered, grabbing his wand and taking up a position next to the door. He didn't have to warn Lily, he knew she had heard the buzz of the alarm. With a grim smile, he realized what must've happened. _Either Peter caved, or... we've had a spy in our midst all this time._ He cut off that chain of thought, realizing such distractions could be deadly. And then he didn't have any time left for thought as the door burst open and a small group of Death Eaters, headed by Voldemort, entered the house.

Hoping to distract the Death Eaters from their intent march up the stairs, he shouted, "Lily! Voldemort's here! Take the baby and run!" Then he himself charged, shouting curses left and right as the Death Eaters turned to face him. He had angled his attack so that he could pass the Death Eaters on the stairs and continue up to his son's room to make his last stand there. He never made it.

"Avada Kedavra," came the whisper, and a bright jet of green light shot out of the wand held by a shadowed figure, striking James in his back. In an instant, the loving father, doting husband, and legend of the Auror Academy was dead.

Upstairs, Lily shook in shock, her hands fumbling for her wand, and the spell for the last hope of the Wizarding world. "Haec mâtris amor," she murmured, smiling at her son as the charm worked its way under his skin, causing the baby to giggle and smile up at his mother. "I love you," she whispered, and set him in his crib before turning to face the man who had killed her husband just moments before. "You bastard," she spat, then dropped into a wounded-bird routine to keep the Dark Lord from suspecting the protection she had placed on her child. "Please, take my life. But spare the child, he's not yet a year old!"

"All the more reason to kill the brat now, _Potter,_" Voldemort spat the name as if it were something disgusting. "He is the product of a filthy Mudblood union. He doesn't deserve to live. Avada Kedavra."

Lily screamed but once before the curse hit her, and the strange thing was, Voldemort could've sworn he saw a smile grace her features as she died. But as he flipped the body of the woman over, he could see her face was frozen in the shocked death mask of the victims of the Killing Curse.

Shaking off his unease, Voldemort approached the crib, his most loyal Death Eaters at his side. "You aren't worth my time, or my pity, Potter. Avada Kedavra." Voldemort smirked as the familiar green jet of light streaked out of his wand and toward the Potter child. He felt safe in the knowledge that the prophecy his spy had given him would come true on this night, and the extinction of the side of Good would come with this child's death. He thought of all the horrendous and terrible things he would bring to the world once the threat of Harry Potter was gone from this world. He was still thinking those thoughts when the jet of light struck the Potter boy in his forehead—then rebounded back onto Voldemort's own forehead. All his thoughts of grandeur, of complete and total annihilation were replaced by a single word. His last thought before blacking out completely was an ignominious "huh?"

Whew... it's amazing what you'll add from your head to paper. Originally, this thing was only a page and a half long. Goddamn. Before I leave you, just a couple of things. First, the Latin spoken by Lily. I know the grammar is probably horrible, since I took it directly from the glossary of words at the back of the Latin book, but it is supposed to be "This Mother's Love."_ If anyone can give me an exact translation, I would be grateful. Secondly, the prophecy was taken directly from the fifth book, so I don't own that. Umm... if I can think of more, there will be more, but until then... you know, that little blue button down there is looking awfully lonely..._


	6. Number Four, Privet Drive

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Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

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Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

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Notes: ::blinks:: that was fast... woaw. Aheh... can ye tell I'm new to this whole, 'review twenty seconds after the fic is posted' thing? Not that it's a bad thing, oh, no! But just... damn, it's a mighty cool feeling when people review your story so quickly. ::grins:: thanks, guys. And now for the individual replies:

Satern Mya: thanks for the compliments! Actually... 'Princess Wolf' is out of the book _Blood and Chocolate_. Yeah, it's a werewolf book, and a damned good one at that. I highly recommend it! Oh.. the author is Annette Curtis Clause if you want to check it out.

Shea Loner: ::shrug:: it's blue on my browser screen, anyway. And about Harry not being a 'wolf, well, you'll just have to wait and see, now won't you! This isn't a 'Harry's a werewolf' fic fer nuthin', y'know!

Eric2: The deal with the arm being healed is this: werewolves are notorious for their healing abilities. Ergo, since Lily's become a werewolf (and lost an awful lot of blood both giving birth and from her wounds) the healing factor's gone into overdrive to make her healthy again. If she hadn't been giving birth, the wounds would've taken longer to heal, but they would've healed nonetheless. And... as for Sirius convincing James not to kill Remus... you'll just have to read the first couple of chapters of _His Lycan Lily_ for that one! One other thing. _An epilogue?!?!_ Pardon me for being _MOST _indignant. I just don't see where or how you can even **_begin_** to think that this story is ended. Jeez-us! Literally, I'm speachless. For one thing, I haven't even _gotten_ to the point at which Harry discovers his werewolf capabilities. And for another... when you clicked on the link to this fic, you _did_ realize that _in the goddamned bloody **summary**_ I practically _yell to the fucking **world**_ that Harry's a werewolf, didn't you? Because if not, then I'm sorry I ever believed that was free from people such as yourself. I'll admit your previous questions have at least a _shred_ of merit, but.. an _epilogue??_ I just don't see how you... ugh. ::goes off to question the intelligence of some reviewers and her own writing::

Countess D Lupin: dankeshoen, froilein... alright, so my spelling in German is off... but anyway, thanks for the review!

Starr2: You're right... I actually didn't see your review for chapter four until after I had posted it... sorry for that. Heh, see my reply to Shea about the 'Harry's not a werewolf' question, and as for the 'Lord I'm-a-douchbag'... Sirius doesn't strike me as the kind of person to fear a mass murderer. Not like the Weasleys do, anyway. Therefore, he's (in my opinion) more apt to make an immature comment like that than any of the characters in the Harry Potter series. Call it an immature moment on my part, as well. Ah well.. I'll tell him to keep his mouth shut in the future ::grins:: and by the bye, thank you _very_ much for reviewing all my crap over at fictionpress. It meant a lot to me.. and just for you I will update Flipside shortly!

Final Spirit: You're very welcome, and as promised, here's the next chapter!

HanyouChick: hey, Abbika, welcome back! hehehe, you crack me up. To tell you the truth, I've never heard of a character named Jimbo on the Simpsons. Then again, it _has_ been forever since I've seen the show. Jimbo's just the nickname I gave a friend of mine, who's name is also James. ::grins:: oh how we a_dore_ Inuyasha... ::huggles him:: he's actually the character I modeled Harry's half 'n' half form after. No one can resist the power of the puppy-dog ears, not even me! ::squeezes Inu until he pops:: uh.... whoops... guess I'll stick to my Inu plushies... less dangerous that way... ::sidles off:: hehe... and yeah, after reading the last chapter again, it might have been better for ol' Moldy Wart to go off cursing into the sunset... _but..._ I'll leave it at 'huh'. Makes him sound less intelligent.

Hakkai - Gojyo - Goku - Sanzo: o.O' at penname... nice. ::sigh:: although, I do grow weary of trying to 'splain the same thing over and over and OVER again... for the last time... ::pulls out soapbox:: **_Yes, Harry is a werewolf. The only reason why he doesn't change at the full moon is because of the _**differences** between bitten 'wolves and born-'wolves (whom I like to call pure-bloods, for lack of a better term). At the end of this chapter, I will add all the information you need to know (for now) about my 'wolves. It can also be found at fictionpress under my other penname gryphkin. So, if there is anyMORE confusion, please refer to that site. Thank you all very much.** ::steps off soapbox:: sorry you had to be the reviewer whose head got blown off, but I needed to get that out.

Little Blue Girls: Glad you came along for the ride! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the previous one!

LadyLupinLover: you are too kind. As per your request, here is more!

Soria: ::nods:: it has been a long time, I know. Forgive me, real life kinda got in the way. Work has been pretty busy (we've 190 lights going out for the NFL kick-off!!), and on top of all that, my driver's test is tomorrow. So yeah, updates have been lacking. But I know just the remedy!

Lonlyheart: thankee for the compliment. Enjoy the chapter!

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter Six: Number Four, Privet Drive

Two hours later, Remus Lupin returned from town, the items Lily requested tucked safely under his arms. Juggling his bags and the cloak that the night was too warm for, he fumbled his keys into the lock—and stopped when he realized that the door was cracked open. Wary, he set down the bags and pushed the door open slightly, reaching for his wand at the same time. The scene that greeted him was pure chaos.

The kitchen table had been overturned and broken, and scattered across the floor were remnants of decorations, as if a tornado had struck while James and Lily were decorating. But Remus' eyes skipped all that as they came to rest upon the greatest anomaly of them all—the body of James F. Potter. "James," Remus whispered fearfully. Wetting his suddenly dry lips, Remus tried again. "Prongs, old buddy?" Still no response from the prone form. Gulping past the tears that had suddenly sprung to his eyes, Remus shook the body, trying to elicit a moan of pain, a groan, a shout of "Surprise!", anything that would prove to Remus his fears were baseless. Unfortunately, all the werewolf found was a pair of glassy brown eyes missing their glasses and staring sightlessly in shock toward something only he could see.

"No," Remus whispered, unable to comprehend the truth. "No. James... you can't... not now... Prongs..." Keys still in hand, the werewolf broke down on the floor next to the body of his closest friend. How long he was there, he couldn't say. It felt like days before the tears finally stopped coming as easily, weeks before he could look at anything in the room without seeing his friend's glassy-eyed stare superimposed upon whatever surface he was gazing at, and months before he could get the energy to move through the house in search of the other half of the Potter duo—_his_ other half.

"Lily!" Remus called, his usually soft voice carrying throughout the house. "Lily! You can come out now, they're gone," Remus' call trailed off to a whisper as he wiped angrily at the tears that were once again threatening to spill. Still trying to keep a brave front, he made his way upstairs to Harry's room. What he saw there shattered the fragile exterior he had pulled together, and for the second time in one night, Remus fell to his knees and cried.

Lily Potter was sprawled ungracefully on the floor next to Harry's crib, the blank look of death on her face that came with the Avada Kedavra curse. Her green eyes stared sightlessly past Remus, but unlike James, she wore a slight smile—as if she knew something the Dark Lord did not. What that could be Remus could not figure out as he regained control of himself and moved into the room to cup Lily's lifeless face with one hand. "What knowledge did you possess that made this price worth the effort, Princess Wolf?" Within seconds, Remus had his answer as a gurgle erupted from the confines of the crib.

"Harry?" Remus ventured shakily. His control threatening to break for the third time that night, Remus peeked into the baby bed—and breathed a sigh of relief. Harry Potter _lived_! For a moment, Remus was genuinely confused. How did Harry, minutes shy of his first birthday, live where others so much older and powerful had fallen? What made him so unique that the Dark Lord's most powerful curse had rebounded off of him, leaving the child with nothing more than a bleeding curse scar? "What did you do, kid?" Remus asked rhetorically. He reached into the crib and picked the child up, who only cooed and gurgled. Remus smiled slightly, and was about to go downstairs when the multiple "CRACK"s of the arriving Aurors and Order members resonated throughout the destroyed household. _Too late for Lily or James, damn them,_ Remus thought as he made his way down the stairs past James' body and outside to meet the teams. As he exited the house, Harry picked up on the werewolf's mood and started expressing his unease the only way a child his age could—by making as much noise as possible.

"Shhh," Remus comforted even as his eyes met the wizened ones of Hogwarts' Headmaster. Tentatively, Dumbledore approached the man and child, his saddened eyes locked with Remus's.

"Are they all—" he let the question hang in the air as his gaze shifted to the destroyed house. Remus nodded mutely.

"Dammit. Then all hope is lost."

Remus's lips quirked in a small smile as he offered the now quiet Harry to the white-haired wizard. "Not all, Albus."

Albus whistled, amazed. "Well I'll be damned." Gently, the Headmaster of Hogwarts took Harry from his impromptu guardian and cradled him against his chest for a moment, as if reassuring himself that the boy really _was_ alive. His blue eyes crinkled at the edges in happiness for a moment before he turned to the gathered and waiting Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix. "Hope has not been lost," he began, still cradling the child to his chest. "Lily and James, sadly, have passed on, but _their son still lives_. And with his life, the life of Voldemort has been snuffed. Rejoice, my friends, for although we have lost two of our own, the cause they gave their lives for _lives on!_" His normally calm voice was loud and impassioned by the end of his speech, jolting Harry awake so that his cries mingled with those of the witches and wizards gathered outside the house.

The cheering would have gone on for a long time, had not a pained howl pierced the revelry. The gathered wizards and witches parted, straining to see what could've made a sound so terrible during an event so joyous. Remus knew—it was the sound of a breaking heart. Even so, he strained along with the rest of the crowd to see what had made the noise, praying he would be wrong.

As the creature came into view, Remus's shoulders sank. It was, as he expected, Sirius. The big black bear-like dog padded down the aisle of people as if wounded, his canine eyes searching for evidence that this was all just another elaborate prank. His eyes met Remus's, and any hope that had been in them dimmed. He knew the truth. Remus's own eyes squeezed tightly against the tears that yet again were trying to escape his tenuous control.

Dumbledore watched this exchange with a heavy heart. For all he was grieving for Lily and James, he knew that their best friends were taking the couple's death even more harshly. With a sigh, he handed Harry over to the nearest pair of willing hands—and the biggest, as it turned out as Rubeus Hagrid was there to accept the tiny bundle. Dumbledore smiled slightly in thanks to the half-giant before turning to the man and dog in front of him. "I think," he began, "that it would be more prudent to continue this conversation outside of prying ears and eyes." He gazed meaningfully at the unregistered Animagus in front of him. "After all, those in the Ministry have been rather—generous—in their punishments for law infractions." The dog winced slightly, then gave an uncanine-like nod and led the way into the house. Dumbledore stepped back to allow Remus to follow, then turned to address the crowd. "Go home, my friends. Most of you will not be needed here tonight, and those that will, I will retrieve later. Go enjoy your new freedom." Many in the crowd gave the Headmaster of Hogwarts a grateful look before disapparating to their homes. Hagrid and a few others who had been close friends with the Potters remained, but Dumbledore left them to be dealt with by his trusted Gatekeeper.

Inside the house, Sirius had transformed back into his man-shape and was currently sitting on a nearby sofa, his head bowed in his hands. Remus was standing at one of the few remaining windows, staring out at nothing. Dumbledore couldn't help but sympathize with the two men, who had lost two of their closest friends in the same five-hour time period. _But where is Peter?_ So lost in his thoughts was he that Dumbledore didn't realize he had spoken until Sirius repeated his statement.

"Yes, where is the little rat?" Sirius' mouth curled up a self-depreciating grin. "Where is our young Secret-Keeper?"

Dumbledore started. He hadn't realized his five former students had changed the Secret-Keeper. "And when did you change Secret-Keepers," he asked gently.

Sirius barked a laugh. "It was my idea, you know. I thought they'd be safer with Peter, since he was never ... there. Dammit!" Sirius stood up suddenly, tears shining in his eyes. "It's my fault," he continued, staring at his former Headmaster. "It's all my fault."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Sirius, you had no way of knowing Peter would turn. It's not your fault. No one here blames you."

Remus, who had at this point been standing at the window, walked over to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I don't blame you," he said softly.

Sirius broke down, shaking Remus's hand from his shoulder and collapsing back on the couch. Dumbledore said nothing, allowing Sirius to recover. He remained motionless for a moment before tightening his jaw and standing up, a new resolve in his eyes. "Thanks, Moony. I'd—I'd better go. I—have some business to take care of." Despite Remus's protests, Sirius left the house. Remus shrugged and turned back to Dumbledore.

"So now what?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Now, we must take young Harry to a place where he will be safe. I know Remus, that you are very capable," he said as Remus opened his mouth to offer a place to stay, "but it would be best, I think, if Harry were to live ignorant of the world in which he is already a celebrity. Would you want him to grow up knowing that everyone in the Wizarding World spoke his name with reverence?" When Remus shook his head, Dumbledore continued. "Very good. I suggest we give him to Lily's sister and her husband. They have a child of their own, I _know_ they'll get along famously." With a twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore led the way out of the ruined house and over to Hagrid, who looked to be a bit confused.

"Yeh wouldn' happen ta know where young Sirius keeps 'is bike, would'jer?"

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "He leaves it in the garage usually."

"Thanks."

"Oh, Rubeus, before you go, there is one thing," Dumbledore began, but interrupted Hagrid when he tried to give Harry back. "No, no, I want you to hold on to Harry. Actually, he'll be going to his Aunt's house, so if you would be so kind as to meet us there?" Hagrid nodded, still a bit befuddled, but left the two wizards in search of the motorbike.

"Dumbledore are you certain—" Remus began.

"Quite, Remus. Harry will be much safer with his Aunt than anywhere we could place him. Now, I must find Minerva. Where could she have gone?" With that, Dumbledore left Remus alone with his thoughts.

"Remus?" came Hagrid's call.

Remus turned around. The half-giant was walking slowly toward him, pulling Sirius's motorbike along with one hand while the other made certain Harry was tucked securely into his jacket. "Thought yer might like te say good-bye," he said, gesturing to the boy.

Remus smiled gratefully and stroked Harry's head. "I should probably say something really profound and exemplary of my wide range of knowledge about choosing your own path and we'll meet again, but given the circumstances," he chuckled softly, "my mind has had about as much as it can handle. But I will say this: I'll miss you. And I'll see you again someday, don't worry. Good luck Harry," he kissed the infant's head, then stood back as Hagrid smiled crookedly at Remus before getting carefully on the motorbike and taking off into the air. "And then there was one," Remus whispered, suddenly aware that most of the witches and wizards had left the ruined home of his two best friends. With a sigh that sounded a little more than world-weary, Remus took one last look at the place he had once called home before apparating away, leaving the house looking lonelier than ever.

_Hey y'all, me again. I'm REALLY sorry for the long wait for this post, but as I mentioned earlier, life sorta caught up to me. But there is good news! I passed my driver's test! I am now a certifiable driver in the great state of New Joisey! ::does happy dance:: whoohoo!! Heh, yeah. That in itself was a part of the delay. So, sorry again, I will try to update sooner, I swear, but I can't promise anything. Classes start soon and on top of all that, if I don't update beforehand, in two weeks I'm going down to North Carolina. There IS a beach-house... but no computer. ::sigh:: ah well. Until next time!_

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_One other thing... as promised, here is the information on my lycanthropic characters:_

_LYCANTHROPY:_

**Changelings**: people who have been bitten

_**First change**: first full moon_

_change at moonrise_

_no control over the lycan parts of themselves, except with the ingestion of wolvesbane_

_**Following changes**: every full moon_

_change when moon is fully above any obstacles on the horizon (trees, houses, etc.)_

_no control, except with wolvesbane_

_Susceptible to__: silver bullets, beheadings, broken neck, fire_

_Strengths__: enhanced strength, sense of smell, visibility (human and lycan forms)_

_enhanced speed, reflexes (lycan form)_

_Physical appearance_

_human: unchanged from original human form, except with strong emotion, when their eyes will take the color of their lycan forms_

_full lycan form: larger than normal wolves, red eyes, more powerful than regular wolves_

**Pure Lycans**: those who were born lycan

_**First change**: puberty_

_initial change at full moon_

_change due to fierce emotion (extreme rage)_

_before first full moon, change is only partial and uncontrolled_

_**Following changes**: MUST change at full moon_

_can change forms to half and full 'wolf at will_

_can change partially_

_complete control over 'wolf form (Animagus-like)_

_**Susceptible to**: silver bullets, beheading_

_**Strengths**: enhanced speed, reflexes, strength, sense of smell, visibility (human and lycan forms)_

_**Physical appearance**:_

_human: perfect vision, slightly longer than normal eyeteeth, slightly pointed ears (unnoticeable except by those looking for the point), eyes change color with mood_

_halfway form: eyes change to yellow, all teeth are sharpened (eyeteeth even longer), sharper nails, light dusting of fur all over, ears shift to top of head and become more wolf-like (think Inuyasha)_

_full lycan form: larger than normal wolf, yellow eyes, more powerful than regular wolves_


	7. And So It Begins

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Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

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Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

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Notes: Hey y'all... sorry it's been so long since my last update. As I mentioned before, last week was _all_ about the vacation down on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Oh hell yeah. But yeah, that vacation and the fact that I'm only just becoming re-acclimated to the school life were to blame for this last hiatus. Expect more in the future as the workload increases. I'll be blunt, I'm not certain if I'll be able to post more than once or twice a month in the future. I know I'm that bad now, but believe me, this senior year is NOT going to be one of the world's easiest. That said, I'll forgo my normal page and a half of review responses and simply say _thank you_. To one and all, you guys are absolutely awesome. HarryPFan001, Final Spirit, redragon6662, MORE!, Hakkai - Gojyo - Goku – Sanzo, Hermione21, Tara (thou strange child...), Mrs. Tom Riddle, Lunar Knight, Alicia Grinderwald, Shea Loner, and aleclovemax thanks bunches!

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter Seven: And So It Begins

"Harry Potter! Get off your lazy arse and do the dishes!" The sound of his Aunt Petunia's voice shook six-year-old Harry out of a restless dream in which he had been running from something—it was always running, never walking, flying, or falling—by the light of the moon. As he rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he realized that if Petunia hadn't woken him this time, he would've discovered just what it was he was running from. He grimaced, baring tiny teeth in annoyance, and turned over on his side, just to irk his aunt even more for waking him. Slowly he counted down the seconds to his aunt's second call: "Five, four, three, two, one—"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! DON'T MAKE ME GET YOUR UNCLE, YOU SELFISH LITTLE CRETIN!"

Face pressed against his pillow, Harry smiled devilishly. Ever since he was old enough to reach the faucet of the sink, his Aunt and Uncle had been adamant that he earn his 'keep' in the household and take over most of the chores his young and untried body could handle. It brought the boy much pleasure in the knowledge that he could get back by making the family wait as long as he could for their breakfast each morning. That particular duty had been added to his list just two weeks ago when he turned six. With a final grunt, Harry pushed himself up out of his cramped little bed in the cupboard under the stairs and ran a hand through his hair as he stumbled into the kitchen to do the Dursley family's bidding.

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By ten years of age, Harry Potter had grown into quite the mischievous lad. At only five feet, he did not cut an imposing figure, yet he had earned the dubious respect of his classmates by pulling prank after prank on the teachers. He was well known for his ability to look completely innocent with a gaze that bespoke complete naivete one minute, and then regain a devious and conniving spark in his bright green eyes when the teacher turned her back. It was well known too, for his lack of tolerance for schoolyard bullies, especially when his cousin was involved. More than once he had come between Dudley and a potential target, ending the argument and sending Dudley running across the playground. The next day Harry would usually return to school with a black eye or a split lip, but always Dudley would cringe from his cousin for at least two days before resuming his normal bullying activities.

If anyone had cared to ask Harry's cousin just what he thought of the black-haired green-eyed boy, they would've discovered that Dudley was completely petrified of the boy. Not so much that he would refrain from his normal 'activities' but enough for Dudley to avoid Harry whenever he walked into a room at home. There wasn't anything remotely like the bullying instinct Dudley had, but something much more _dangerous_ that gave Dudley goosebumps whenever Harry's gaze was directed toward him. He didn't know when Harry had gained that dangerous gleam, he just knew that the almost daily games of 'Pound the Potter' had dropped off when the two boys started first grade. Now at the end of fifth, Dudley didn't know _what_ to make of his odd cousin. He had taken it upon himself to stay out of Potter's way whenever he was around, fearing the wrath that seemed to stew behind those bright green eyes.

On this particular day, however, those selfsame green eyes were dulled in boredom. After all, there were only so many times one could listen to the same speech about the same flaws in character without eventually tuning the entire thing out. And Harry had been hearing this speech since he was four. Before then he had been—_impressionable_—and apt to repeat whatever had been said to him, as the Dursleys had found out much to their chagrin on more than one occasion. Therefore it was of little surprise to the boy that he yawned loudly in the middle of his Uncle's rant.

Vernon, on the other hand, was so shocked he promptly forgot whatever the insult of the day had been and had to begin anew. "How _dare _you, Potter. You dare to put your _needs_," Vernon sneered, "above your cousin's? You dare to—"

Harry didn't know what made him interrupt—really. He had simply had enough of his Uncle's ranting and railing against _every_ single thing Harry did wrong. Six years of rants and threats of sending him off to an orphanage had simply come to a head. "Yes Dursley, I dare," the boy spat, eyes suddenly blazing. "I _dare_ because I'm sick of this. I'm not your bloody servant, Dursley. I don't have to bend to your every whim. I'd much rather rot in an orphanage than stay here!" With that, Harry pushed off from the stair post he had been leaning against to storm past a suddenly scarlet Vernon Dursley and out the door.

Outside, Harry glared at nothing. It wasn't _his_ fault his Aunt had decided Dudley needed fencing lessons—and Dudley had decided he needed a target to practice on. It wasn't _his _fault Harry had actually paid attention to the instructor during classes and actually learned something while Dudley had been messing around in the back with a couple of cronies he had roped into coming with him. And it sure as hell hadn't been _his_ fault that when they had been paired off, Harry's sudden jump to the left to dodge a thrust had caused Dudley to lose his balance and break his nose on the hard mesh of his training mask.

_Feh. He deserved it,_ Harry thought, grinning to himself as he remembered the sound of Dudley's whimpers as he tried to stem the bleeding, only to discover that the mask hampered his way. With a sigh, Harry lay back in the grass as the knowledge of what the implications of his outburst were. _'Least I'll finally be away from those idiots_, he mused, wondering where exactly his little speech had come from. It wasn't like him to snap so quickly. _Ah well. Maybe someone in the family had a temper_, Harry wondered, finally getting up out of the grass and wandering back inside where he knew he would face the full brunt of his relatives' respective tempers and whatever harsh punishments they could concoct.

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Two weeks later, Harry was surprised to still be a resident of Number Four. Privately he figured the Dursleys wanted to keep their personal servant around as long as they could so they wouldn't have to do any of the normal household chores. The fencing lessons had stopped, however. Harry didn't care either way. Fencing or no, he knew he could still find ways to get under his relatives' skins without even trying, sometimes without even his knowledge.

"Boy! The post is here. Go fetch it."

Vernon's command shook Harry out of his musings, and with a bland look at his uncle, Harry moved to obey. He trundled down the hall at a leisurely pace before stooping to scoop up the mail where it had tumbled out of the mail slot. As he headed back to the kitchen, he thumbed through the rubber band-bound bunch of letters. _Bills, bills, Congratulations!—looks like Petunia won her holiday getaway—wait. What was that?_ One letter stood out from the rest of the bundle. The envelope was yellowed and heavy, unlike the flimsy envelopes Vernon used to stuff his letters into. Curious, Harry halted in the hallway and sat down on the stairs to take a closer look. As he pulled the envelope out of its rubber band binding, he noticed something else odd about the letter. _It was addressed to him_. His curiosity even more piqued, Harry took a moment to wonder how the sender knew his room was in the cupboard under the stairs as he slid a thumbnail underneath the glue, tearing it open.

There were two letters. The first looked like an equipment list of some kind, but with items Harry had never heard of before in his life. The second, however, was a more normal sort of letter. Harry skimmed through it quickly, then more slowly, then read it a third time more thoroughly, not daring to believe what the letter was, in effect, telling him.

Dear Mister Potter:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed you will find—

—Harry got no further as his uncle, curious as to why the boy had not returned promptly from the relatively short walk from the kitchen table to the mail slot, tore the letter out of his hand.

"Now just what is this nonsense? And why are you reading _my_ mail?" Vernon read the letter much as his nephew had only moments before, his eyes moving thrice through the words on the parchment, trying to take in all the information. As he finished, he turned to glare coldly at Harry. Harry matched his uncle stare for stare until the large man had to look away. Harry allowed himself a small smile at that and held his hand out to his uncle. Vernon stared at the boy in confusion until Harry spoke.

"My letter, uncle." It wasn't a request. Vernon stared at the hand a moment longer, his own lips twisting into a sneer.

"I don't think so, _boy_," he hissed, "your aunt and I swore we would keep you from all this foolishness when we took you in. And you have only given us grief in gratitude. A pathetic little parasite like you doesn't _deserve_ anything but the orphanage. And that's where you'll be going. Next week, in fact." Vernon towered over Harry as he perched on the edge of one step. "There will be none of _this_ nonsense there, I promise you that!" With a triumphant gleam in his eye, Vernon tore the letter to pieces slowly, deliberately, watching for some break in the precocious ten-year-old's spirit.

What Vernon saw reflected in those eyes was not what he was hoping for.

Instead of the saddened eyes of a crushed spirit, the eyes that stared back at Vernon were rife with anger, hate, and an indignant pride that made Vernon take a step or two backward. "Bastard," Harry hissed, green eyes glittering as he rose in one smooth motion. Vernon stared at the boy as he moved from the stair where he sat to stand directly in Vernon's face—Vernon's chest, actually, as the top of the boy's head did not quite reach his uncle's shoulder. However, the height difference did nothing to deter the sheer volume of anger in the young boy's eyes. So much anger, in fact that Vernon could've _sworn_ he saw Harry's eyes change color. On second thought...

_They were!_ Vernon's own eyes widened in fear as he witnessed the transformation his nephew was currently undergoing. The disconcerting thing was, Harry didn't seem to notice, so fervently was he railing against his uncle's oppression while his eyes shifted to a golden yellow color. And that wasn't the only change occurring. As Vernon continued to watch, mesmerized, Harry's ears _shifted_, moving from their normal position to perch atop the boy's head and become pointed, like a cat's or dog's. His teeth _grew_, becoming pointed and looking more like fangs with each passing second. Vernon chanced a glance down the boy's body to see if anything else was changing, only to discover that Harry's nails had become claw-like—_and was that fur growing on his arms?_ Vernon was petrified. He nearly peed his pants in fear... on second thought... _oh crap._ He had never been this afraid in all his life. As one of the top echelon of a large corporation, Vernon had dealt with powerful enemies with equally powerful connections almost daily. However this—this _boy_ had quite literally scared him shitless.

As Harry stepped forward to make a point, Vernon couldn't handle any more. He turned tail, running around the diminutive eleven-year-old and up the stairs, liquid staining his pants and trickling down his legs as he went. Harry was slightly bemused by his uncle's sudden change in attitude, but as he turned toward the kitchen to ferret out some food, he caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror. _What the—?_ A pair of golden yellow eyes stared back at the boy, framed by a mass of black hair and ear tufts on either side of his head. _Odd_... he lifted one hand to feel an ear tuft, and _stared_ at it. The back of his hand was covered in brown fuzz, like he had grown fur. He also had _claws_. "Heh," Harry smiled, baring a set of teeth that would've made any vampire proud. He didn't know _what_ had happened, but he wasn't inclined to complain. As he stared at his reflection, picking out all the nuances of his changed appearance, he noticed his eyes start to shift back toward their normal green. By the time a sound in the kitchen distracted the boy from his musings, his eyes had gone back to normal, the anger at his uncle all but forgotten.

The noise in the kitchen turned out to be his aunt, who had fainted when she saw Harry's new appearance. Dudley hadn't noticed a thing, as he was still engrossed in the television on the table. Harry got a few evil ideas in his head, but decided against them and went outside instead, taking care not to step on his aunt. As he stepped out into the summer heat, he noticed an owl sitting on his chimney. _Strange..._ Harry mused, then was jolted from his train of thought by _another_ of the creatures, swooping down to land on his shoulder. "Hello," Harry greeted the owl, somewhat bemused by the bird's odd behavior. The eagle owl only blinked at Harry a bit nervously and raised one of its talons to show the boy something. "What? Oh," Harry untied the envelope from the owl's leg, thanking it absently. Freed from its burden, the owl wasted no time leaping into the air to wing its way as far away from the dog-eared boy as it could possibly get. The snowy owl perched on the chimney quickly followed suit.

Harry watched both birds leave, amused by their behavior. He was _very_ happy, happier than he had been in all his life at the Dursleys' house. Had he seen his reflection at that point, he would've noticed his eyes change color to a deep, almost indigo blue—but Harry was too busy staring at the envelope in his hand to do such a thing. The address revealed it to be a match of the one his uncle had torn to pieces. Eagerly, Harry slit open the back with one sharpened nail and pulled out the contents. He sat there, in the backyard for the remainder of the day, reading the letter and daydreaming of the year to come.

There. That's done... on to chapter eight, in which Harry visits Diagon Alley!


	8. Diagonal Adventures

**Title: _Full Moon Rising_**

**Author: _daemonwolf_**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Notes:** Heh... I seem to be doing this a lot lately: my deepest apologies for the extraordinarily (even for me!) long wait for this chapter. Foolish girl I am, I decided to write the original on my laptop ... which is currently without an internet connection OR a floppy drive. So this chapter may have had to wait for another month or so, but for a stroke of luck—the laptop just to be WiFi capable, and someone else just to be within range of the sensor. Ergo, I got this chapter e-mailed to myself so I could finish it up on the computer that connected to the 'net, and finally deliver it into your waiting paws. So, thanks so much for being patient with me—I promise not to make that mistake again.

Now, for those long-awaited replies:

**Hakkai:** (sorry, I've given up on trying to type your full name without having to check back at the review any number of a hundred times to be sure I spelled it right) ::snickers:: I'd hate to see what would happen if Dudley tried something like that...

**Lonlyheart:** you're very welcome! And as I promised (albeit, a bit late), here's the next one!

**Black-Raven: **glad I've peaked your interest... hope this rejuvenates it!

**Hermioneluver:** lol, thanks for the understanding... hopefully no one's quite at the point of holding me at knifepoint for an update... ::watches as reviewers raise daggers and kitchen cutlery:: er, guys? Ah heh... ::sweatdrop:: look! See! Update! Please don't kill me... ::reviewers lower weapons:: phew...

**HarryPFan:** er... you mean soon as in, within the next century, right? ::laughs nervously::... sorry to keep you waiting.

**HecateDeMort:** love the penname, by the bye. Here's more for yah!

**Shadowed Rains:** giddy, huh? That's a dangerous state of mind... could lead to much bouncing off of walls and exclamation points. Here, quick! Take Nyquil! ::chucks a bottle of Nyquil::

**Shell:** glad you liked chapter five... hopefully you didn't stop there, but thank you tons for the translation! Soon as I can I'll re-post chap. five with the correct version.

**Final Spirit:** Hey! Welcome back! Glad you liked the chapter, here's the next one!

**Anitajane:** glad you liked it, here's the next one!

**Suicidal-bunnies: **another one with an odd penname... anywho, to answer your questions: No, James and Lily are not alive; I stick to canon on that much at least... everything else though is up in the air. However, I _do_ have a fic that takes place _before_ the botched Halloween murders called His Lycan Lily that can be found in my bio. Come to think of it, that one's been aching for an update as well... hmm.. ::makes mental note:: as for the lack of update... ::eyes axe:: please don't kill me! I'll never be able to update if you do!

**Hermione21:** As I mentioned to Suicidal-bunnies, the story sticks pretty much to canon on the subject of Harry's past and his living conditions. Which means, yes Sirius is in Azkaban and no, Remus will not be taking him to Diagon Alley. Everyone still thinks he's still human, so Hagrid will be making the trip like in the books.

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Full Moon Rising

Chapter Eight: Diagonal Adventures

The next day dawned cool for late July; dew covered most of the grass that had not yet been touched by the sun. Number Four, Privet Drive lay mostly in shadow, save for a patch of backyard that was angled such that it always received sunlight before the rest of the household. It was in this patch that a certain black-haired, green-eyed young boy laid, a letter clutched in one hand as he slept peacefully with a smile on his face. As the sun's warm tendrils brushed his face, he stirred slightly, smile widening. It wasn't long, however, before the warm tendrils of sunshine became almost an unbearable heat against his eyelids and he was forced to open them.

The sleepy smile was still affixed on his face as he uncurled from his position on the ground and stretched languidly. His back chose that moment to remind him of the somewhat awkward position he had spent the night in, and the sleepy smile was quickly replaced with a grimace of pain. With a final yawn, the Boy Who Lived levered himself up off the grass, shaking the dew from his hair. Letter in hand, he pushed open the glass door leading to the kitchen and entered the still-quiet house. _That's the second time I've done that in as many weeks,_ the boy thought ruefully as he rubbed his neck, which had joined his back in proclaiming their displeasure in his choice of sleeping positions. He padded through the house quietly, giving a cursory glance to the hall mirror to see just how rumpled the night left him. What he saw there gave him pause—the golden eyes and fangs of the night before had disappeared, leaving him looking as normal as any other almost-eleven year old boy. Something was missing, though, and Harry had to stare at the mirror for quite some time before he realized _I don't have my glasses!_ He felt his face, just to be certain, but it was no illusion—somehow his vision had corrected itself during the night, leaving him with near-perfect eyes. _Excellent_, he smiled, baring a double row of even _human_ teeth. _Ah well_, he sighed silently. _Can't have everything, I suppose._ With a final smile at his reflection, Harry trooped upstairs toward his original goal—the bathroom.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Harry walked back downstairs to gobble down a breakfast of toast and eggs before heading outside to await the stirrings of the rest of the family. Twenty minutes later, he was shaken out of his latest daydream by the call of his aunt to make breakfast for herself and her son. Vernon had yet to show his face outside the room he shared with Petunia. Harry smiled inwardly and got up obediently to do his aunt's bidding.

By the week's end, life was back to a semblance of normalcy within the Dursley household. Vernon was still petrified of his young charge, but had managed to ignore the boy for the most part as he went about his business. Petunia still demanded as much from the young wizard as ever, but she made certain not to rile the boy's temper by 'pulling a Vernon'. For the most part where Harry was concerned, he felt safe in the knowledge that he would be leaving his relations by the end of the following month and so had no compunction to terrorize the already frightened Dursleys. He was far from content, but it would do for now.

The end of the week also brought about a happy event—at least where Harry was concerned. On Friday, at the stroke of midnight, he turned eleven years old. Although the next day did not bring any presents (or recognition, for that matter), it was enough for Harry that one more day had passed, and he was one day closer to finally attending Hogwarts. The day was still young when a knock on the door startled the Dursleys out of their late breakfast, which Harry was currently in the process of serving. The newly-minted eleven year old quirked an eyebrow at his uncle as if to ask, 'shall I get that?' Vernon's glare was equally expressive, saying, 'not on your life, boy,' as he shoved backward from the table in haste to beat his nephew to the door. Harry simply watched his uncle waddle as quickly as was possible for the portly man in amusement, and went back to his serving duties, all the while keeping one ear on the conversation at the door. So busy was he in his tasks that he didn't notice his ears slide back up his head and become more canine-like. Nor did he notice the fact that although the conversation was being held at the far end of the hall, he could hear every word as if it was being held right next to him. Petunia noticed his ears migrate from their normal place on the boy's head, however, and fainted dead away. Dudley was too busy inhaling his sausage to notice anything.

"Can I help you?" Came Vernon's voice from down the hall.

"Er, yeh. I'm 'ere t'collect 'Arry Potter t'get 'is supplies."

"Supplies?" Vernon's voice was tinged with surprise and disgust.

"Yeh. 'E here?"

"Sorry, _sir_, you must have the wrong house. There is no 'Harry Potter' living—" Vernon was cut off suddenly by a crash in the kitchen. The crash was immediately followed by the Boy-Who-Lived himself in partial werewolf regalia—ears perched atop his head, teeth slightly pointed and eyes blazing a violent mixture of green and yellow as he stormed up to his uncle.

"You were saying?" The boy's voice carried an undertone of violence as his disserting eyes bored into his uncle's brown ones.

"Um…" Vernon gulped audibly. "S-sorry, sir. I w-was mistaken. I-I thought you meant um… Larry Copper. F-forgive my slip of the tongue. Just a m-misunderstanding between friends, eh?" He tried to wink jovially, but it ended up looking like he was on the verge of tears. "I-I'll just be going then. No need to keep breakfast waiting!" With a high false laugh, he excused himself hurriedly and waddled even faster back down the hallway to his wife and son.

Harry watched his uncle's retreat with a great show of amusement. The smirk was still present on his long-toothed mouth as he turned to face the new arrival. They stared at one another for a long moment—Harry trying to figure out just who he was, while the new arrival was doing a pondering of a similar sort, only he was trying to figure out just _what_ Harry was.

"Erm… I guess tha' you're 'Arry then, righ'?"

Harry blinked, and the new arrival would swear later that he _saw_ the gold drain from the boy's eyes as he calmed down.

"Yeah, I'm him," Harry replied with a small smile. "Who're you?"

"Er… 'Agrid's the name," the half-giant muttered absentmindedly as he was treated to another _very_ strange sight—Harry's ears had retreated from their tufted positions at the apex of his skull to their normal typically human positions on either side of his eyes. As soon as the boy's ears returned to normal, the one called Hagrid shook himself violently and held out a rather large hand to introduce himself properly. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts."

Harry slipped his small hand into the half-giant's, slightly awe-struck at the sheer _size_ of the man. Hagrid smiled at the small boy's reaction and told the boy why he had come. "Ye've got to have school supplies, ain't ye? We're goin' down to Diagon Alley for the lot of 'em."

Harry only grinned in reply and followed the large man out the door. At the end of the driveway, Hagrid did a rather curious thing, Harry thought. He looked surreptitiously up and down the street twice before tentatively holding aloft his left hand. A few moments later a loud CRACK resounded up and down the street, blowing Harry clean off his feet. In front of the two males, where once was naught but clean air and bright sunshine, now stood the most outlandish bus Harry had ever seen in his short life. Hagrid grinned at the boy's flabbergasted reaction and motioned Harry aboard after helping the boy to his feet. "Welcome ter th' Dae Bus, 'Arry." Harry could only nod as he stepped aboard the vomit-yellow bus. The insides were not much better. Yellow was apparently the theme of the day, as _everything_—from the squashy overstuffed chairs to the wheel and dangly fuzzy dice at the driver's seat were of similar shades as the outer décor.

"Oh lord," whispered Harry fervently, not paying attention to Hagrid as the man paid the conductor and finally had to steer Harry down the aisle to his own chair. Four hours later (the bus had been in the middle of Wales when Hagrid had raised his hand and had had quite the busy schedule), Harry sighed gratefully as he stepped from the Dae Bus to the ground outside the Leaky Cauldron tavern. Hagrid stepped off the bus looking just as thankful to be getting his own feet on solid ground. A few moments leaning against one of the lampposts outside the inn and the large man was ready to head in. He held open the door for the small boy, before entering himself and steering his charge passed the group of wizards gathered at the bar all the while grumbling about 'scars' and 'slobbering twits'. Harry would've asked what he was talking about, but they had arrived at what apparently was their destination—a brick wall in the back of the inn.

"Umm," Harry began, but Hagrid was oblivious as he pulled a rather large pink umbrella from his inner coat pocket and pointed to a few of the bricks on the wall.

"Now, was it three ter th' left an' two up? Or was it th'other way 'round?" Fortunately, he hit upon the correct combination before long, and stepped back to watch as the bricks _shifted_ to form an archway. Hagrid noticed Harry's awed glance and with a quiet chuckle led the boy under the arch and into Diagon Alley.

Harry's first impression of the area was one of typical London over-crowding, but as his brain finally began to register what he was seeing, he knew that the over-crowding experienced by Diagon Alley was anything _but_ typical. Harry soon realized, however, that the seeming lack of space was only partly due to the sheer number of people crowded into the alley. There was another rather odd contributing factor—most of the buildings of the alley seemed to have been built with little regard to typical architectural methods. Hell, some loomed out over the street so far, Harry was afraid they would tip over on top of the crowd at any moment! He cringed when Hagrid led him under one of the more precariously perched buildings, but the building stayed put and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they left "Ziggy's Ziggurats" behind.

Hagrid led the boy up to a white marble structure looking thankfully solid, and stopped him outside the double doors. "This 'ere's Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank. Safest place in'ner world, tha' tis. Aside from 'Ogwarts, o'course." Harry merely nodded and followed the giant of a man into the bank. He found himself in a richly decorated hallway—at least, that was what it would've been had the 'hallway' not been lined with tall desks stacked high with papers all the way down to the end, where a single door marked the entrance to only gods-knew-where. What shocked Harry the most, however, was the fact that the tellers sitting (or standing, he was unable to tell) at the desks were not human at all. They were in fact quite ugly with the sort of faces one expected on a Hallowe'en mask—not a living, breathing creature.

Hagrid perceptively noticed Harry's discomfort, and was quick to whisper an explanation: "These are the keepers of Gringotts—goblins, all of 'em. Very quick to distrust, an' 'onest ter a fault, they are. Makes 'em th' perfect guardians fer th' bank." Harry nodded warily, his nails lengthening slightly in his unease. He kept quiet, however, and watched curiously as Hagrid went through the motions necessary to withdraw money and items from the bank. As he finished, another goblin walked up and introduced himself as Griphook, explaining that he would be the one to actually take the two down to their vaults.

Hagrid, for whatever reason Harry could not imagine, looked a tad nervous and even queasy as the goblin led the way to the door at the end of the hallway. Harry was in the process of wondering just what the large man could be frightened of when the door opened to reveal...a single mine-cart. Harry looked up at Hagrid in confusion, but followed the goblin into the cart. Hagrid brought up the rear, albeit hesitantly.

With everyone on board, the mine-cart zoomed off into the darkness of the bank. Harry laughed as the cart careened around tight corners and more than once almost fell off the track as it traveled down to Harry's vault. Too soon the ride was over, and Hagrid practically leapt out of the cart to get his feet on solid ground again. Harry followed more slowly, sorry that the ride was over. The goblin Griphook shouldered past him and the large man to stand at the side of the vault. "Key, please."

Hagrid fished about in his coat for a bit, then handed the goblin Harry's key, along with a stray dog biscuit. "Oops," the half-giant said as he quickly stuffed the biscuit back in his coat. Griphook gave the man a look of disgust before putting key to lock and opening the vault door.

Harry almost fell down when he saw the sheer _number_ of gold, silver, and bronze coins piled in his vault. Hagrid watched the boy, amusement plain on his face as he moved over to Harry's side and closed the eleven-year-old's mouth. "You'll catch flies, that way," he admonished before handing an empty bag to Harry. "Put yer money in there; not a lot, mind ye, ye've still got six more years of school ter pay fer."

Harry took the bag and walked into his vault. Hagrid provided some helpful information as Harry busied himself by scooping up handfuls of coins. "Th' bronze one's are Knuts. Next up in value are the Sickles; those're the silver ones. The gold ones're the most valuable; they're called Galleons. Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough ter remember." As soon as Harry finished, Griphook herded both man and boy back into the mine-cart, which took off to the next stop on the itinerary, Vault 713.

Half an hour later, Hagrid and Harry walked out of the Wizarding Bank. Harry took a look around the Alley with a slightly crazed windblown grin plastered on his face. Hagrid looked less than pleased, and more than a little green around the gills. Quickly he steered the boy to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions before running back to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up.

Harry was met at the door by Madame Malkin herself, and was taken to the back to be fitted for his robes. Another boy was already standing on one of the stools, a look of abject boredom on his face. His eyes brightened slightly as Harry entered the room, but he quickly resumed the façade that had been drummed into him since birth. "You Hogwarts too?" he asked in a bored tone.

Harry took a moment to study the boy. He was scrawny for an eleven-year-old, with silver locks slicked back over his skull. The boy had the air of an aristocrat, as well as the condescending stare that went along with it. The boy's superior air rankled, so Harry answered with the tone he normally reserved for his cousin when Harry was preventing some form of bullying. "Yeah, so?"

The boy ignored the hidden warning and continued on. "Me too. D'you know what house you'll be in?" Harry only looked at the boy in confusion. "You know, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw. I know _I'm_ going to be in Slytherin. All my family was. You're not a Muggleborn, are you?"

Harry only raised an eyebrow. "A what?"

"Muggleborn. You must be, if you don't even know what it _is._ Father says Hogwarts shouldn't let Muggleborns in—they're all inferior, or diseased, or something."

Harry growled softly. "Really. Well, your _father_ might want to be careful around whom he says such things. _Some_ people might take offence." Gold leeched into emerald eyes as Harry stared at the boy, who blanched an even paler color than he already was. Fortunately for the boy, Madame Malkin chose the moment to tell him he was done, and the boy jumped down off the stool before running outside with his purchases. Harry merely snorted softly and rolled his eyes as he allowed Madame Malkin to measure him for his robes.

Twenty minutes later, Harry left the shop with an armful of clothing to search for Hagrid. He found the man outside Flourish and Blott's, the magical bookshop. Hagrid was staring wistfully at one of the new textbooks being modeled in the front window—a teacher's guide to all manner of magical beasts. Unfortunately for Hagrid, one had to actually _be_ a teacher in order to purchase the book. With a frustrated sigh, Hagrid took Harry inside. They emerged from the bookshop in about ten minutes, a stack of books split between the two of them. Harry and Hagrid then picked up the remainder of Harry's supplies in quick succession, until only a wand was left.

The tail-end of a conversation could be heard from nearby the Alley as Harry and Hagrid walked toward Ollivander's. "Hagrid, do I _have_ to go back home?"

"'Onestly, 'Arry, I don't know. Yeh should go back, but if Dumbledore says it's alrigh' then I guess yeh don'..." Hagrid seemed uncertain, but couldn't resist the boy's pleading eyes. "Alrigh'. I'll ask 'im, but don' expect anythin' of it, 'kay?"

Harry grinned. "Alright." He was still smiling as they opened the door to Ollivander's and stepped inside.

The interior of the store reminded Harry of the time he had been 'elected' to clean the Dursleys' attic. From top to bottom, the entire shop was covered in dust. _Makes sense, really, if Ollivander has been in business since 382 BC, _Harry thought as he surveyed the shop. Shortly thereafter, a spry old man poked his head out from behind one of the shelves. "Ah, Mister Potter, I see. Come to get your wand?" At Harry's nod, the gray-haired man smiled secretly and walked up next to Harry, plucking what looked like a tape measure from the counter as he went. "Now, which is your wand arm?" Harry raised his right arm hesitantly, but Ollivander simply nodded and set about the task of measuring his limb.

After a minute or so the measurements were complete, though Harry for the life of him could not figure out what importance the distance between his nostrils had in his choice of wand. Ollivander had disappeared back into the stacks of wands, and after a moment, his disembodied voice rang out in the shop as he made his way back to the boy, boxes of wands in hand. "Ah, here we are! Holly and dragon heartstring, six inches." He handed the wand to Harry, who was barely able to flick the thing before Ollivander snatched it back. "No, no, try this one. Maple and unicorn hair, twelve inches." Again, Harry waved the wand, only to have the odd shopkeeper snatch it back. Things continued in this same vein, with Ollivander offering up odd combinations of wood and core, only to reject them as soon as they touched the young boy's hand. Finally out of desperation Ollivander vanished to the very back of his shop, digging through boxes that hadn't seen the light of day for many a year.

"Ah hah! Mister Potter, I think you'll like this one. An odd combination it is, even for myself. Fir and the heartstring of a werewolf, thirteen inches." Gently, the old man handed the wand to the young wizard, who gave it a tired wave. However, instead of being snatched back, the wand began to emit a soft yellow light, and although Harry had to strain to hear, the soft tones of a lupine howl reached his ear. He smiled as the music washed over him, his half-closed eyes glowing a brighter shade of green than normal. As Harry came back to reality, the batty old shopkeeper grinned at him. "A strange combination, as well as a strange history are hidden in that wand. Ask sometime and I will recount it for you." Hagrid glanced oddly at Harry, but the boy only nodded, dazed. He paid for the wand automatically and left the store, the howl still ringing in his ears.

The rest of the day went quickly after that—Harry and Hagrid stopped in at the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts and the local apothecary for potions supplies. They were headed back to the Leaky Cauldron when Harry didn't so much see as _felt_ something tugging at him from the next shop, Magical Menagerie. Hagrid came along eagerly, always on the lookout for a new pet. As the pair entered the shop, Harry could feel the presence tug at him more forcefully, and he spun about, looking for it until he was able to sense the tug originating from the large cage of cats on one side of the shop wall. Obediently Harry approached the cage and looked in. Dozens of kittens romped around the center of the cage while the adults looked on from the sidelines. Harry spotted a dozen and more different colors, ranging from a tawny ginger to a speckled calico, and even some strange green and orange combination that looked like it had gotten caught in Ireland at the wrong time. However, Harry's instincts made his eyes slide over all the kittens, as well as most of the adults until his gaze locked with the greenest gaze he'd ever seen apart from his own eyes. The eyes belonged to what looked like a half-grown black cat, for it was larger than any of the other kittens, but not yet as large as the adults. Instantly, Harry knew that this cat was the source of the pull he'd felt. With hesitant hands, the boy reached into the cage to lift the black cat to him. Upon closer inspection, the cat was not truly black at all—dark brown rosettes—so brown that they were _almost_ black dotted its hide from neck to haunch.

Harry smiled gently as he brought the beast to eye level. "Hello," he whispered, his own green eyes locking with the cat's. "You _are_ beautiful." The cat seemed to appreciate his statement, and immediately began purring. Harry knew what he had to do.

"Hagrid," the boy said from behind the half-giant, nearly scaring the man out of his boots.

"Oy, Harry, don' _do_ tha'. Ye'll be the death of meh yet." Harry only smiled and lifted the purring cat up to Hagrid's hand for inspection. Surprisingly, Hagrid looked slightly crestfallen. "Er, actually Harry... I thought yeh weren't gettin' anythin'. So I ah, already bought yeh a beastie. Happy Birthday!" He pulled a cage from behind his back. Inside it, a raven fluttered at the sudden movement, cawing its surprise. Harry's face fell at the sight of the raven.

"So I can't have the cat?" His green eyes took on a slight watery sheen. Now that he had found the cat, he couldn't think of what he'd do without it. Hagrid, in one of his more astute moments, noticed and made a quick decision.

"Tell yeh wha'. When I talk teh Dumbledore, I'll ask 'im. If yeh can't keep the raven then I'll use 'im as me own personal owl. Er, so to speak, o'course." He scratched his head and gave the raven an apologetic glance as it squawked at being called an owl.

Harry grinned like a madman and rushed up to the counter to pay for the cat. She (for the cat was a female) disdained the use of a cat carrier, choosing instead to ride on Harry's shoulders. Not that Harry had any problem with her being there. His eyes were a sparkling indigo blue as the pair and the new pets made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for something to eat.

Wow. This is going in a completely different direction than my original notes and plotlines ever_ said it would. Chalk it up to the stupid were-muses that live in my head, I guess. I never meant for the cat to pop up, she just did, I swear! And she'll probably bring in her own adventures I'm sure. Yay. 'Scuse me while I smack my muses around. Anyway, again, pardon the lateness. I _should_ technically be working on my NYU and Drexel personal statements at the moment, but the muse attacked me. (and after two months of lying dormant, who can blame him?) So yeah, take heart in the fact that you don't have to throw the rotten vegetables. The colleges are torturing me enough as it is. Ta for now! _

gryph

Post Script: Geh. fanfiction's preview thingy is messing with my chapter. So if things are bold italisized that aren't supposed to be or whole chapters are repeated, I had nothing to do with it. Sorry it happened, but I will try to fix it as soon as eff eff dot net gets their collective act together.


	9. At the Leaky Cauldron

**Title:** _Full Moon Rising_

**Author:** _daemonwolf_

**Rating:** PG-13

**Notes:** Alright, boys and girls. I've decided to dispense with the replies for now. It's been three, almost four months since my last update, and for that I am sorry. However, that little tickling thing in the back of my head whispered _life_ and so I left to deal with it. No, I'm not dead, not yet anyway, and I don't plan on leaving this beast hanging where it is now. **However**, as I said at the beginning, I am _not_ a regular updater. When push comes to shove for me, plays second banana to whatever real-life shit I'm taking care of. Lots of things have been happening over the time period from December to now, some good, some bad, and some just fuckin' ugly. I'll write when I can, but I highly suggest putting my name on your Author Alerts list if you still enjoy reading this story so you won't miss out on any updates. So, with that in mind, I'll leave you. My thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, responses to a few can from now on be found at the end of each chapter.

**Special Disclaimer:** I have no knowledge of actual arcane rituals and ceremonies. As such, the ceremony described in this chapter is the product of my own over-active imagination, and I claim no responsible for the damage any demonic or benign being summoned by persons performing the ritual described herein may cause to said person or the surrounding countryside. (that dry and lawyer-ish enough for y'all?)

* * *

**_Full Moon Rising_**

_Chapter Nine: At the Leaky Cauldron_

An hour later, after the Harry had gotten his first taste of dinner at a Wizarding establishment, Hagrid kept true to his word and contacted Dumbledore via the floo network. Harry looked at the large man a little oddly as he knelt down in front of the fireplace and tossed a handful of powder into the flames. Harry was even more surprised when the flames turned a bright emerald green and Hagrid stuck his head into the fire, shouting "Dumbledore's office!" as he poked his head in. From Harry's position next to the fireplace, he could only make out the rumblings of Hagrid's voice as he replied and something that might've been a birdsong in the background. A little while later Hagrid retracted his head from the fire and shook it about, sending ashes and soot flying everywhere.

"Good news," Hagrid told Harry after he'd gotten as much of the ash out of his beard as he was able. "Dumbledore said yeh can stay, though yer not teh leave the alley. An' don' be sneakin' inter Knockturn Alley neither! Yeh c'n also keep the raven and the cat—Dumbledore said 'e'd write a special note for yeh. Now, lemmie go make 'rrangements wit' Tom an' get yeh a room." The giant of a man ruffled Harry's hair fondly before walking over to where Tom, the barkeep was polishing a glass. Harry ignored their quiet conversation; too excited was he that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the holidays with the Dursleys. And he had two new pets, to boot! Just the thought of his new cat and raven made Harry want to get the ordeal of ordering a room over with quickly so he could go play with them. He smiled happily; of course, now that he _had_ pets he couldn't let them go without names! So while Hagrid and Tom were talking, Harry pulled his cat from what was quickly becoming her customary perch on his shoulders and sat down on the floor with her in his lap. Absentmindedly he stroked the beast while looking into those eyes that so resembled his own. _As green as a fresh-pickled toad_ came to mind for some reason, but he shook the thought away and returned to the task of naming the cat.

As for the feline in his lap, she was just as content as one in her position could be. Contrary to appearances, this was no ordinary cat, prone to racing about the cage at odd moments, convinced that a ghost was on her tail. No, she was most definitely above all that. She was not old, but she did have some decorum to stick to, lest she wind up a common house pet. She had immediately felt the tug of the wizard boy who now held her, first when he had passed the shop on his way to the Wizarding bank, and second when he had returned. But that second time, she knew what had to be done. She had reached out with her claws—figuratively of course—and _made_ this unusual human boy sense her and respond. However… as the cat thought she came to realize that this boy was indeed special—but not because he was her rightful master. As she breathed, the feline took in the scents of the humans in the bar and compared them to the scent of her master—and discovered something. He was not human at all, but a wolf quite literally cloaked in sheep's clothing. He did not yet smell of dead things, but as a predator, the cat knew that this smell would come in time, for it came to every animal that killed and ate meat. The cat also found she quite liked the scent of her master. Although it did not include the dead things, it was rife with hereditary memories of the forest and something that the cat had only before connected with nighttime during a full moon. She smirked to herself as she analyzed her master's scent and let out a contented purr as he rubbed the special spot directly beneath her chin. She may have been no ordinary cat, but that did not mean she did not have ordinary cat-needs!

Harry smiled once more at his new pet as she let out a rumbling purr. For the life of him, he could not figure out a name that suited her. He tried out different names in his head, but every one of them sounded forced to his inner mind. _Emerald? No, too obvious. Rosette, no, rose? No, she's _black_ not red, idiot. Night? Feh. Now you're grasping. Wait… what about… _Harry looked into his pet's eyes beseeching the animal to tell him her name and make it easy on him. But those eyes, those emerald eyes that were so like his own when he was happy would give nothing up. Her eyes promised mischief, but they also held a deep affection, which surprised Harry, seeing as the two of them had only met half an hour ago. So jewel-like and… _that's it!_ Harry smiled at his young charge, and whispered his decision in her ear. The cat gave him an uncannily intelligent appraisal and began purring in earnest. Harry took the purr as acceptance and sat back against the wall, murmuring her new name to himself as he stroked her fur.

"Onyx..."

As Harry was finishing his little impromptu naming ceremony, Hagrid approached with Tom in tow. "Alrigh' Harry?" At Harry's nod, Hagrid smiled and motioned to the shorter barkeep. "Tom said 'e'd put yeh up fer the rest o' yer stay. 'E'll show yeh to yer room."

Tom nodded in agreement with the half-giant and produced a large key from behind the bar. "If you'll follow me, Mister Potter?"

Harry gently shifted Onyx off his lap and stood, wincing as the blood rushed back into his legs. Onyx, unhappy about being displaced from her warm spot, meowed up at her human and rubbed her black-furred head against his leg. Harry grinned at his pet and picked her up before following the barkeep up the stairs to his new room.

* * *

Two hours later Harry found himself settled in; his belongings either packed in his trunk or spread out amidst the bedclothes for further deliberation. His raven fluttered freely about the room, while Onyx stared lazily at the bird with bright green eyes. Before the cat could act on any of her ingrained hunting impulses, Harry called the bird to him and stretched out his arm for the raven to perch on. "You still need a name, don't you?" He asked the bird. The raven cawed in agreement. Harry sighed. "Hmm.." He sat back against the side of the bed to contemplate, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn't think of a name that would do the bird justice. "Suppose I'll just have to call you 'Raven' for now… until I can think of a better name, that is." He grimaced as the raven voiced it's displeasure with a particularly loud squawk right next to his ear. "Hey! It's not like you have any other ideas, do you?" The raven just shook its feathers and grumbled to itself. 

"That's what I thought. Now Raven, let's get something to eat, huh?" He smiled as the bird perked up instantly and moved to sit on his shoulder. Onyx padded over to rub her cheek on Harry's leg, as if to say, you're not leaving me here, are you? Harry only grinned and held the door open for the feline before following her out.

Downstairs, Tom stood behind the bar, cleaning yet another glass with a rag. It was a slow day for the Leaky Cauldron which was for the barkeep both a blessing and a curse. As much as he _loved_ to stand on the other side of the bar and listen to the woes of all his customers, there was only so much one barkeep could take before laughing out loud and saying "you think that's bad? You should've heard what that guy went through!" Although, it did amuse him to no end to compare stories at the end of the day, in fact, he'd made a hobby of it many years ago and still stuck to his routine. However, that was all irrelevant when taken into consideration the fact that he was the only man downstairs at the moment, not including the obligatory drunkard in the corner. But he didn't really count, now did he? Tom sighed to himself and set down the glass which sparkled brilliantly as the sun hit it. The barkeep chuckled. There was something to be said for the innate magic that helped him do his job.

A noise from the upstairs brought Tom out of his thoughts and he turned just in time to see a black blur dash down the stairs followed quickly by an angry ball of feathers. A boy's voice rang out from the top of the stairs: "_On-nyx_ I thought I told you! No eating Raven!" Tom let out a small chuckle as the Boy-Who-Lived himself rushed down the stairs to gather up and chastise his pets. The child leapt down the last few stairs with an uncanny grace before running over to the hearth, where Onyx was defending herself from the feathery onslaught that was Raven. "And Raven, she didn't _mean_ to eat you, it's her nature!" As quick as Tom had ever seen, the boy reached out a hand and snatched the bird out of midair, completely ignoring its squawk of indignation. "Jeeze, you two. I said 'go on downstairs' not 'try and kill each other.'" The boy let out a long-suffering sigh as he knelt to scratch the cat behind her ears. He smiled as she started to purr and rub her head against his hand for more attention.

Harry sighed again. "What am I going to do with the two of you?" Cat and bird stared at him with identical innocent looks. A low chuckle from behind him took Harry's attention off of his pets.

"Misbehaving, are they?" Harry turned to regard the owner of the voice, the barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Only as much as I'd expect," the boy replied with a small smile. "But then again, I really don't know what I'm doing. I've never had pets before," he added quietly as a blush stained his cheeks.

"Well then, you've come to the right place, my boy," the barkeep said, wiping his hands off on the rag. He leaned across the bar and turned warm brown eyes on the small boy in front of the hearth. "I happen to know a lady who's got a way with the critters. She'll straighten those two right up."

Harry's eyes widened. Not even half a day with his two, and already he knew something of the hell he'd be putting himself through if he did little to train them. "When can I meet her?"

Tom smiled, holding his hands up to calm the eager child. "Half a moment, there, young Potter. First I have to ask if she'll have you. Now don't worry," he added as Harry's face fell. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to have you. But let's not jump to conclusions, shall we?"

Harry thought about that for a moment, then nodded his head. "You'll let me know what she says?" he asked.

"Of course. Now, run along and see what you can do about those animals yourself. Wouldn't do for them to listen only to Mistress Morgan, now would it?" The barkeep's words set off a flurry of activity as Harry plucked Raven once more off his shoulder and shooed Onyx upstairs for some "alone time." Tom chuckled to himself and looked around the tavern. Quiet as a tomb, it was, but ten times as inviting. Now was as good a time as ever to visit his cousin—they had had to discontinue their ritual visits because of some family problems. However, Tom knew those particular problems had been dealt with ages ago. He didn't know what was keeping his cousin from visiting this time, but figured it was safe enough to check up on her.

_Only a few things to take care of first,_ he thought as he tucked the rag into his ever-present belt pouch and pulled a small crock out from underneath the counter. In it, he kept an emergency stash of floo powder for special occasions. Taking a handful, the barkeep walked over to the hearth and tossed a bit in before shouting "Donne residence!" and sticking his head in.

Ten minutes later the barkeep's head retreated from the fire just as a short, balding man stepped through. Tom smiled at the man and spoke a few words before tossing a second handful of powder into the fire and shouting "Castle of the Fey" as he stepped fully into the fire.

* * *

After zooming past countless grates, Tom found himself in the entrance chamber of a large castle. Behind him, if he had cared to look, was an elaborate fireplace depicting the history of the Tuatha de Dannan carved entirely from stone. The hall was similarly decorated, with stone gargoyles in the shapes of faeries every ten paces up the hall. Flags and tapestries in the family colors hung from both sides, illuminated by the magical candelabras beneath them. Tom, however, was completely unfazed by the décor, and strode up the hall as if he owned the place. Which was partially true. His aunt, the esteemed Mogheid Fey (no relation to the Le Feys, thank you very much!), had left the castle and all its trappings to both him and her daughter Morgan, as they were the only progeny of the entire family. Tom had forsaken his part of the castle to be able to keep running the inn he had inherited from his master, but still visited his cousin as often as he was able. 

Tom made his way up the length of the hallway to a pair of large wooden doors set into the stone walls, which he threw open to reveal an even longer hallway with a grand staircase set about halfway down its length. The graying barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron followed the staircase up to the second level of the castle, where he was greeted by Marcus, the elderly caretaker of the castle. "Marcus!" he called joyfully.

Marcus smiled slightly, a mere twitch of the lips to those looking for it. "A pleasure as always to see you, Sir."

Tom chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit. Say, would you happen to know where my wayward cousin is," he added.

Marcus nodded and gestured in the direction of the upstairs. "I believe she is still sitting with her paints in the north tower. At least, that's where she was when I called her to dinner two hours ago." Again, Marcus' mouth twitched, this time forming a frown.

Tom thanked the caretaker and began the long trek up to his cousin's studio.

* * *

Twenty minutes later found Tom standing outside the door to Morgan's studio, slightly out of breath. He leaned against the heavy oaken door for a moment to recover his breath then rapped lightly on the door. After a moment the door opened, revealing the figure of his cousin. 

In age, she was as old as he, but time had treated his cousin differently. She had few wrinkles and no gray hairs marred her flame-red hair. However, she did have the deep circles that signified lack of sleep. All in all, though, Tom privately thought she looked much better than he.

"Cousin," Morgan's greeting brought him out of his thoughts. "Whatever are you doing here? I thought our visits were too 'dangerous' to continue."

Tom winced. It _had_ been his idea that they discontinue their visits, but he still stuck to his beliefs. If they had ignored the warnings, either one or both of them would be dead by now. They both knew their family was _much_ too volatile for something of that nature not to occur. Without meaning to, he sniped back: "It may have been my _idea_, Morgana Llyweyan Fey, but that was _ages_ ago! Where have you been?"

Morgan looked fit to burst. Tom winced again, this time inwardly. He'd forgotten, heavens help him he'd forgotten how much Morgan _hated_ the sound of her full name. Trying to diffuse the situation before his cousin's infamous temper was roused even further he hurried on. "Look, Morgan, I didn't come here to snipe with you about old events. A young friend of mine has need of your particular expertise and I was wondering if you'd help the lad."

For a moment, Morgan looked rebellious, but her Ravenclaw roots showed themselves as curiosity won over blind juvenile fury. "What is it?"

_Thank the gods_. "The boy recently acquired two new pets—a large black cat by the name of Onyx and a raven, who, for the moment, goes by Raven. With your particular affinity for the beasties, I was wondering if you would help the boy train them, or at least teach them to behave. It's a kind thing Professor Dumbledore's doing, letting him have two pets—and one not even on the acceptable list of animals! I like the lad; I'd not want to see him get into any more trouble than he can avoid."

Morgan looked pensive for a moment, twirling a paintbrush absently between two fingers. "We'll see. Who is this boy?"

"Harry Potter."

* * *

Back in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was trying to figure something out. Although he was completely ignorant of the magical world in most ways, he _knew_ being able to change one's eye color and grow _fur_ of all things was definitely **not** on the normal-to-wizards-but-strange-to-Muggles-list. So he sat on the rug next to his bed, absently stroking Onyx (who was asleep in the boy's lap for the moment and thankfully not trying to eat Raven). He thought briefly about Tom's offer to have his cousin train the creatures and for a moment entertained the thought that she might be able to figure out what _he_ was, as well, but quickly dismissed it. He was _human_ after all… At least, he thought he was. _Still_, Harry thought about it for a moment. He _had_ to know. Worst case she said he was human and that was that. 

With the comforting thought that finally he might just be able to figure out what the hell was wrong with him, Harry leaned back so his head rested against the side of the bed, and allowed the rumbling purrs of Onyx to send him to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up with a crick in his neck, which was hardly surprising considering the position he'd spent most of the night in. Onyx had long ago left the warmth of the boy's lap, in favor of the more comfortable (and more stable) perch at the end of the bed. "Nice of you to wake me up," Harry grumbled, rubbing his sore neck. Onyx only yawned and snuggled deeper into the bedclothes, her tail draped over her nose. Harry likewise yawned and stretched then rummaged around the room for some clean clothes so he could change and go downstairs for breakfast. 

Twenty minutes later, Harry dashed down the stairs, eager to hear whatever news Tom had for him from his cousin. He skidded to a halt as he saw Tom talking to a woman seated at the bar, not wanting to interrupt. Tom, however, noticed Harry and beckoned him over to the bar. "Harry, glad you could join us. This is my cousin, Morgan. She's agreed to train your pets for you."

The woman turned to regard the Boy-Who-Lived with cool gray eyes. "Good day, Mister Potter. I've heard you wanted some assistance with your animals?" Harry nodded. "Very well. Bring them to me after you've eaten and I'll see what I can do."

Harry grinned gratefully and took his seat at the bar, shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth as quickly as he was able. Morgan looked on, leveling an intense stare at the boy. To any outsider it would seem as if she was glaring at his back. In reality, Morgan was deep in thought, and no longer aware of her surroundings. Unbeknownst to the majority of the world (with the exception of her cousin, who shared her mother's family's blood and a few other select folk), Morgan was an aura-reader, as well as an Animagus in the most basic sense of the term.

Long before wizard folk populated the lands of Europe, magical creatures ran rampant. Unicorns and Darcorns, Dragons, Bugaboos, Gryphons, Sprites, the amount of different species was innumerable. Alongside the more well-known magical beasts were the faeries—the creatures humans magical and non-magical alike would come to call the fey.

The faeries of northern Europe had always been a reclusive lot, choosing to separate their affairs completely from those of humans. They were blessed with several different abilities, among those the ability to read auras other than their own, the ability to shape-shift, and the ability to communicate with plants and animals. Those who could speak with the flora and fauna had special titles, for theirs was one of the rarest of all gifts among faerie-kind. Respectively, they were Dendramagi, meaning plant-mage and Animagi, meaning animal-mage.

Long after the fey had either interbreeded with humans, becoming indistinguishable from them or simply faded from human knowledge except in story and song, the title of Animagi and position of Animagus cropped up when one particularly motivated wizard was searching for a way to transform himself into a fly. He'd reason to believe his wife was being unfaithful, and while searching through old records of shape-shifting and transmogrification, he stumbled upon an old parchment with little legible on it but a single word: Animagi. The wizard took a liking to the term immediately, and once he had completed his transformation, he called the new form his "animagus form" (even though to his chagrin, he had become not a fly, but a frog, and had to spend the rest of his days explaining to his wife the reason why he "croaked" every other word). And so, as the wizard went on to publish his works (croaks excluded, of course), the title of Animagus gained a new meaning—those who possessed the ability to shape-shift into an animal.

Morgan's family, on her mother's side, still retained traces of faerie blood. Thus, the children of the Fey family (and it was no coincidence that the family still retained the name Fey) had the potential to possess faerie abilities, though few ever did. Morgan had been lucky; she possessed the faerie lifespan, as well as two of the traditional abilities. She had learned to use them well, and was about to put the knowledge she had to the test.

Focusing on the area of Harry's head and upper body once more, she quickly scanned his aura. To her eyes, the different colors swirling tightly about his body signified any of a number of different things. Silver signified an enchantment, blood red, a curse, while pale blue and green were normal, human colors. Magical animals had their own aura colors, as well. What she saw surrounding Harry surprised her. Not only was his aura devoid of the pale blues and greens she had come to expect when dealing with humans, but it contained a color type she had seen only twice before: the gem-color emerald. The jewel colors were particularly rare in auras. Their presence meant a series of events had occurred which resulted in the aura-bearer not being of the same species as its parent. Emerald signified a magical creature—what she didn't know, as the color was not species-specific. Ruby was the color of possession—demonic or otherwise. The only other gem color she had seen was the lapis lazuli, a color signifying the presence of a mundane creature, such as a cat or rabbit, within the belly of the host mother.

She shook herself from her musings as Harry finished the last bit of his eggs. "Well, now, young man. Run along and fetch your animals. I'll wait here."

"Thank you, Mistress," Harry replied respectfully, and ran up the stairs to find Onyx and Raven.

* * *

Five minutes later the boy was back downstairs, cat and raven in tow. Morgan's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the feline. One glance at the cat's aura and she knew _this_ was no ordinary animal. A quick question posed to the beast confirmed what her eyes had told her. Harry was no more carrying around a common housecat than she was a completely mundane human being. She smiled slightly. If Harry could make a friend of a feline as fierce and untamed as Onyx, then he'd do fine. Politely, she asked Harry the names of his creatures. With relish, the boy replied that they were Onyx and Raven, although he did falter over the name of his bird, as if he did not wish it so. 

When asked about it, the boy mumbled "I couldn't think of anything else," an embarrassed blush staining his cheeks. Morgan only smiled.

"Would you like me to help you think of a better name?" she asked the intrepid eleven-year-old.

"Yes'm," he replied, green eyes wide and hopeful.

Morgan thought for a moment. The boy was special; his animals reflected that. Although out of the three of them the raven was the most mundane, the bird's eye sparkled with an uncanny intelligence, which Morgan affirmed with a short mental conversation. She finally grinned at the boy and his pets; she had the answer. "How about Munin?" she asked, companionably.

"Munin?" Harry repeated, trying the name out.

"Yes, after the Norse god Odin's own raven advisor. The name means Wisdom in the Norse tongue."

"Munin," Harry repeated, looking directly at his raven. The raven gave a squawk of acknowledgement. Harry grinned toothily, eyes flashing. "He likes it."

Morgan smiled. "Good. I'm glad. Now, tell me something, boy. What do you know about that cat of yours?"

"Onyx?" Harry asked. At Morgan's nod, he glanced down at the cat, who had decided his lap was the most comfortable place in the world, and was lost in dreamland, her tail tucked over her nose. When Harry spoke her name, however, her ear twitched in the boy's direction in acknowledgement. "Er, well, she's special."

"Special how?" Morgan prompted after a moment.

Harry was silent for a moment. "I'm not really sure. She's… well, she's just special, is all. I knew that when I found her."

Morgan made a noncommittal noise in her throat, and tried again. "What is it about her that makes you think she's special?"

Harry bit his lip and stroked the cat in his lap, who promptly let out a contented and resounding purr. Harry smiled gently at the creature and turned his attention back to the woman waiting patiently for his answer. "She's beautiful, for a start. All black and those green eyes… I've never seen a cat like her before." He paused for a moment, absentmindedly running his fingers through the cat's fur. "I—felt something," he finally admitted, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks. "I dunno what it was, but it felt—familiar, in a way. Like a warm blanket. You know?" He turned confused green eyes toward Morgan once more, floundering for an answer.

Morgan looked thoughtful. She knew the truth about the beast he had sleeping so peacefully in his lap, and also knew the truth about the boy's heritage, for lack of a better term. He was a magical beast in his own right, and that magic felt others of like blood—called to them, even, unless the beast in question was careful enough to shield his or her magic and in essence, his or her aura from everyone else. The question was (which, ironically, had just been answered), did Harry know of his own abilities? Unfortunately, since this was not the case, Morgan was faced with the difficult decision of either telling the boy he was not entirely human, or ignoring the issue completely and risking it biting her in the arse later on. She settled for a compromise. She'd tell the boy the truth about his cat, and leave the rest up to him. As insurance, she could have the cat help him wherever he needed and contact her if something went wrong. With that thought in mind, Morgan allowed herself a soft sigh of relief and paused a few more moments to gather her thoughts.

"I think, my young friend, that this conversation would be best held in a more private room. There are some things I need to tell you that _other_ ears," she glanced pointedly toward the other patrons in the main dining hall, "would be not so forgiving of, if they were to overhear."

Harry nodded. He'd had enough experience eavesdropping on his Aunt and Uncle to know what to do when a conversation was not meant to be heard. Wordlessly, he gathered his cat in his arms and waved the newly re-named Munin off his shoulder so he could make his way up the stairs to the room he'd rented from Tom. He paused at the top of the staircase to see if Morgan was following and, reassured that she was, headed down the hall to his small room.

Inside Morgan took a seat on the small desk chair provided for patrons, while Harry sat opposite to her on the bed. He lay Onyx back in his lap, but the cat, having been displaced from her original position, was having none of that and leapt out of the boy's lap to perch on the edge of the desk next to Morgan, where she promptly began cleaning herself.

Morgan smiled slightly, a slight upturn of her lips in amusement. Her gray eyes, however, were all business. "As you have deduced, Harry, your pet is rather 'special'. She is not an ordinary feline in any sense. She is magical, yes, but she is also more than that. She's a panther, Harry."

Harry looked confused. "But how'd she get here? I thought panthers only lived in Asia." He turned troubled eyes to Onyx, whose green gaze met his own coolly. She licked her chops, as cats are wont to do when they've finished cleaning themselves, and Harry could see that her fangs were unlike those of old Mrs. Figgs' cats. Where theirs were small and dainty, Onyx's fangs seemed to possess more substance to them. They were—thicker in a way that promised even more growth when the cat's jaws allowed for it. There were other signs, as well, Harry knew. The rosettes marring what would've otherwise been a perfectly black pelt marked her as a member of the leopard family, and her _paws_. Harry recalled his first reaction to them. He'd never seen such large paws on a full-grown cat before, which suddenly made sense, now that he knew she was nowhere near full-grown.

Finally the boy looked back at Morgan, his eyes troubled. "Will Dumbledore still let me take her to Hogwarts with me?"

Morgan leaned back in her chair, contemplating her own role in this mess. Out of everyone in the Wizarding World, she alone had the knowledge, and thus the power to decide the cat's fate and through her, the boy's. While she personally thought the cat would be a great asset to the boy as he came into his heritage as a magical whatever-it-was, she had no idea as to what the Headmaster would think. She knew he was tolerant to an extent when the quirks of his students were brought to light, but she also knew first-hand how he would become extremely protective of the youngsters if any of those 'quirks' became threats to anyone's health. Morgan had to sigh at the unfairness of it all.

"Truthfully, child, I don't know the Headmaster's mind." She winced as Harry's face fell. "However, I can provide a bit of advice. Onyx is nowhere near full-grown. At the moment, she's still a kitten. I can provide for you a charm that will disguise her size, and thus not arouse any suspicion. I must add, though, that this is only a temporary solution. If she were to grow to full-size and rub up against any of your school-mates, they would immediately notice something was amiss when they felt a head rubbing up near their waist when they saw that her head only came up to mid-calf."

It was Harry's turn to look thoughtful. "Tom said you could speak to the animals," he began. Morgan hid her surprise, she hadn't known her cousin had put that much trust in the child. "If you could make her understand that only I was safe to touch?"

Morgan nodded, liking the idea. "Very well. However, I must caution you. If there ever comes a time when she is discovered, there is a forest surrounding the school that will provide shelter enough for her. While I can't give you the beast-speaking ability, I can perform a bonding ceremony beyond what I would normally do for you. That way, you will be able to 'sense' her in a way, and make the both of you empathetic to the other's emotions. I will warn you, though. The ceremony may have side-effects. What those are, I cannot say, but suffice to say if they manifest themselves, you will be acutely aware of the consequences."

Harry thought for a moment about the woman's offer, then nodded his head solemnly. He loved his cat, no, panther already as if they had known each other for years, instead of just two days. He knew without a doubt he'd do anything for her if it were humanly possible. He said as much to Morgan, who smiled gently at the boy. He'd make a good bond-partner for the beast, which was fortunate, since Onyx's particular species couldn't survive without one.

"Then let me return to my home to gather supplies. We can perform the ceremony here or there, whichever you prefer," she said, rising from her chair.

"If we go with you, will you be able to begin sooner?" Harry asked, also rising.

"I suppose," Morgan mused.

"Than may we?"

Morgan thought for a moment, then acquiesced with the condition that her cousin had to agree, since he was in effect Harry's guardian.

Almost before she had finished, the boy was racing downstairs to ask the permission of the wizened barkeep.

* * *

A half-hour later, the pair appeared in the same hallway Tom had walked through the day previous. On the way up to Morgan's chambers, she cautioned the boy to exercise discretion during his stay at the castle. There still remained parts of the castle that were untamed and unexplored, even in all the years she had been living in her ancestral home. Harry's expression turned thoughtful at her words, but he nodded all the same and promised he wouldn't go exploring. 

Morgan seemed satisfied with his answer, and showed him to his own room, which was situated down the hall from her own. It had been, she explained, Tom's room when he was growing up. She helped Harry get settled in, then retired to her own rooms to collect supplies and prepare herself for the upcoming ceremony. She advised Harry to do the same and empty his mind of all thoughts except those of Onyx, and how much he cared for her. He did so, and when the knock came at his door signaling the time had come, Harry was ready. He took a deep breath and pulled Onyx into his arms. Onyx purred almost on contact, sensing her master was nervous and trying to alleviate his fears.

A white-robed figure stood in the doorway when he pulled it open. Harry recognized Morgan's eyes, and accepted the black and white cloak she placed around his shoulders. The cloak was huge, trailing on the floor and concealing his entire body and Onyx's, even his head when Morgan pulled the hood up. Silently he followed the trailing edge of her white robe, since he was unable to see more than a foot in front of his feet with the hood over his eyes.

Morgan led panther and master into a prepared chamber, lit dimly by candles and thick with the scent of the forest as incense of pine, lavender, sage, and vanilla filled the air. She motioned to the center of the room, where a circle was outlined in salt. Harry obediently followed her unspoken direction, settling himself cross-legged inside the circle, Onyx held gently in his lap. Morgan smiled reassuringly at the pair, then began the ritual. She padded over to the salt circle protecting Harry and Onyx and pulled a handful of sage from a pouch hanging from her waist. Chanting in a mixture of Latin and Gaelic, she spread the sage on top of the salt circle three times before coming to a halt. A wind began to swirl through the room as Morgan raised her hands in supplication to some unseen being and it was all Harry could do to not run away screaming as Morgan finally lowered her hands and pointed in his direction, blood red eyes boring into his own green ones. Harry did let out a shriek, however, when the otherworldly presence in the room passed through the circle of salt and sage, through _him_ and out the other side. As the last of the "wind" flew through him, Harry slumped, unconscious.

* * *

_"Hello?" Harry found himself in a blank space; a white something-or-other that he would've called a room, except it didn't seem to have any walls or ceiling. He shivered suddenly, not from cold but from memory—the memory of that _thing_ passing through his body. He tried again. "Anybody out there?"_

_ Far in the distance (or close by, he couldn't really tell since there were no reference points to tell him how far away he was from something), a door seemed to open—or maybe space just folded in upon itself to reveal…"Onyx?"_

_ He didn't realize he'd said the last aloud until the panther kit padded up to him and rubbed her face along his leg. **Yes, it is I, master.**_

_ "Where are we?" Harry asked his pet, not in the least bit surprised she was speaking to him. Then again, that could've just been the influence of the wherever-he-was. He couldn't seem to work himself into any semblance of strong emotion, positive or otherwise._

_ **I wouldn't know what to call it in the human tongue. My people call this place the Ni'ix—the place **_**between_. It is where we go to perform the bonding ceremonies or simply communicate with loved ones who are far away physically, sometimes also with the recently dead._**

_"Recently? Why only recently dead?"_

_ **Our shades—fade after a while. Either that or they're reincarnated as another of my people, or something else, I'm not quite sure. Actually, before now I'd never been here before in this life. **Onyx leapt gracefully up to Harry's shoulders, where she purred contentedly as he reached up a hand to stroke her backside. **Mmm, yeah. Right… there, oh that's good. **Her purr rose in volume as Harry scratched at the desired spot until a voice interrupted._

_ WHO ARE YOU THAT WOULD ENTER THE REALM OF THE PARD K'HAKRA?_

_ Harry jumped and looked around fearfully, the force of his surprise throwing Onyx off his shoulders. She slunk away, growling at either him or the voice, Harry didn't know. "Er, Harry Potter, sir. This is my familiar, Onyx. We were…"_

_ DON'T TELL ME YOU WERE! TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE! WHAT YOU ARE DOING HERE, MONGREL, WITH ONE OF THE PARD. EXPLAIN. **NOW.**_

_ Harry swallowed convulsively. "I—we…"_

_ Onyx saved him from answering. **It is a bonding ceremony, great one. He is to be my bond-partner.**_

_ The voice was silent for a moment, then: UNDERSTOOD._

_ Onyx looked out into the white abyss. **Will you oversee?**_

_ This time, the voice held a note of amusement. YES, YOUNG ONE. AFTER ALL, IT WAS WHAT THE FAERIE CALLED ME TO DO._

_ Harry couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

_

The ceremony itself lasted only a few moments. Morgan kept watch over the body of Harry Potter (the feline's body had disappeared to wherever Harry's mind was, as was expected), fulfilling her role as anchor to the real world. She watched as Harry's body glowed briefly with an amethyst light, signaling the forging of the bond. Morgan smiled in relief at the successful completion of the ceremony; she'd hoped there wouldn't be any side-effects.

When Harry woke up, it was mid-morning, although from his room he wouldn't be able to tell since it was windowless. A candle burned in a stand next to his bed, a puddle of wax forming at the base. He almost stretched, but felt the familiar weight of Onyx on his chest and decided against it, unwilling to waken the feline. She woke anyway, and leveled a green-eyed stare at him, shocking Harry slightly. As her eyes met his, he realized he could _feel_ her annoyance with him. Abashed, he blushed, but Onyx paid him no heed and pulled herself out of the ball she'd been tucked into and stretched, leaping lightly to the floor when she'd finished. He felt a tendril of amusement brush his consciousness, to which he sent a half-hearted glare. He pulled himself out of bed and stretched his own way, popping the stiff joints in his back. Quickly, he pulled on the extra set of over-large jeans and shirt he'd brought from his trunk in the Leaky Cauldron and headed down the hall, hopefully in the direction of the kitchen.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur for Harry. Morgan tested his newfound connection with Onyx as she compared notes with the cat (it was the oddest thing, Harry thought, when he'd walked in on the two in the library, Morgan talking to Onyx aloud and taking notes(!) on what she "said", while the cat physically seemed to be ignoring her in favor of cleaning her nether regions). He was asked if he felt any different, to which he replied that the only difference he could think of was the extra set of emotions in the back of his head. Onyx had simply sent a thought of extreme amusement to Harry and a comment of a different sort to Morgan, who laughed aloud. She kept her agreement with Harry, placing the charms on Onyx that would keep the panther to an outwardly manageable large housecat size. She also explained to Onyx the need for extreme aloofness, to which the feline readily agreed. She wasn't too fond of most humans, notably those who had taken her to the pet shop, but around any human (with the exceptions of Harry and Morgan, of course), she was extremely wary. Morgan relayed her answer to Harry, who offered his gratitude by scratching the feline behind her ears, which earned him a rumbling purr. Finally, it was time to go back to the inn. Harry thanked Morgan profusely for her time and ability, but the woman waved it off with a smile and a hug for the young boy, as well as a request that he visit her again at the end of the year, to check up on how he and the panther were faring. Harry gave his word and tossed the floo powder she'd given him into the huge fireplace, shouting "The Leaky Cauldron!" at the top of his lungs. Once both cat and boy were safely sequestered back in their room, Harry wasted no time—as soon as his feet left the floor and his head hit the pillow, the young werewolf and bond-partner to Onyx the panther of the pard K'hakra, fell fast asleep.

_There. This chapter is _finally_ finished, after much blood, sweat, and tears. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Meh. It's nearing midnight, and I've work yet to be done on things of the educational persuasion. Therefore, even though I'm not at all happy with the way this chapter turned out, I'll be posting it. Maybe it's just me, but Harry seems so… submissive in this part. Far more so than he had last chapter. Eh. Oh well. It's late, maybe I'm just imagining things. I'll take this time now to post a second disclaimer and thank my reviewers._

_**Special Disclaimer the Second:** Morgan Fey is mine, as are Onyx and Raven, also called Munin, although the name itself and history behind it belongs to Norse mythology. The idea of the pard belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, though she may have gotten it from the actual definition of a leopard group, I don't know. However, as it stands, the K'hakra (pronounced: Kah-HA-kra), the Ni'ix (pronounced: NY-ix), and the idea of the original Animagus, as well as any of the dozen other small things you don't recognize are all products of my own imagination, and may not be used without my permission, or the permission of my muse. _

_Thanks to: **Manny2003**, **drunkenwerewolf**, **Sarah R Potter, Pyr00tje, Final Spirit, Dak Potter-Malfoy, KitsuneSkye203, Hakkai, HecateDeMort, Shadowed Rains, Maze2004, A Teenage Werewolf, Shea Loner**_

**_ Tempest in Blue: _**_Remus won't be coming around for a while yet. I'm sticking to canon in that area…if my bloody muse cooperates, of course._

**_Azura-Fei-Long_**_: Frankly, I'm not sure yet. I think so, though. For now, any other colors will be shades and mixtures of those three, showing to what degree he's feeling that emotion…hell, if that's the case, his eyes might just turn brown if he's as messed up as I am._

**_Maya100_**_: come now, if I told you that the whole plot would be ruined!_


	10. Hogwarts!

Title: _Full Moon Rising_

Author: _daemonwolf_

Rating: PG-13

Notes: Surprise! Guess who's back! And with a brand-y new chapter, too. I'm actually surprised this chapter is getting written so early (in my terms, not yours obviously), what with the death of my principal (which some of you might already know about if you bother to read the bios) and some other miscellaneous crap that's been going on. But I digress. To the disclaimers!

Special Disclaimer: Morgan Fey is mine, as are Onyx and Raven, also called Munin, although the name itself and history behind it belongs to Norse mythology. The idea of the pard belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, though she may have gotten it from the actual definition of a leopard group, I don't know. However, as it stands, the K'hakra (pronounced: Kah-HA-kra), the Ni'ix (pronounced: NY-ix), and the idea of the original Animagus, as well as any of the dozen other small things you don't recognize are all products of my own imagination, and may not be used without my permission, or the permission of my muse.

**_EXTRA-IMPORTANT NOTE!_** Down at the bottom of this chapter I've a question for you lot what read my fic. Please please PLEASE read it! I could really use your opinions on this matter! Thank you…

Random question: Why have I got Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead! running through my head? I keep thinking "Camelot! Camelot! … (insert silly song) … On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. 'Tis a silly place." On top of that, Gary Oldman and Tim Roth keep playing Questions in my head. "D'you want to play questions?" _sighs_. On with the show!

* * *

**_Full Moon Rising_**

_Chapter Ten: Hogwarts! or The Questions Game_

The weeks passed too quickly for Harry's taste. He'd kept busy, talking to his animals whenever he had a chance just so he could become acclimated to the little bundle of emotions in the back of his head. By the time three weeks had passed, Harry didn't have to concentrate in order to tell what Onyx was passively thinking. This also meant the cat didn't need to 'send' her emotions across the bond if she wanted something, which in turn created a slave out of Harry for a while, until he figured out that he didn't need to run to his pet's bidding every time she felt a twinge of sadness. For what, Harry could not figure out, but after he came away bloody when he tried to force a toy on Onyx to cheer her up, he learned not to bother her when she was in one of her 'moods'.

He also worked with Munin during that time, bonding more crudely with the bird than he had with Onyx, but still becoming more attuned to the bird's needs and desires and by month's end, Harry could anticipate either animal's needs—a fact which he was quite proud of.

When Harry wasn't putting his animals through their paces, he worked on himself. He knew already that sometimes his eyes changed color and he grew fur(!) of all things. No matter what anybody said about his status as wizard and child-savior of the Wizarding World, Harry had a bit more than a hunch that his physical changes were not at _all_ normal. Which was why, after every training session with his animals, Harry plopped himself down on his bed and stared hard into the mirror opposite it, willing his eyes to change, his teeth to lengthen—_anything_ at all to happen. Unfortunately, he'd been less than successful, though his eyes did seem to leak toward the familiar yellow-gold occasionally—but Harry figured that was only because he became increasingly frustrated and angry at his lack of any success whatsoever than actual gaining of skill.

Toward the end of his tenure at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry usually left off his daily staring sessions after a half-hour and journeyed outside the tavern to the book store. He quickly got into a habit where he'd find a quiet place in the back of the store and read, instead of buying any of the interesting-looking books to take back to the tavern with him. He learned as his visits to the store became more and more frequent that most of the interesting-looking books were _not_, and was therefore grateful he'd left of purchasing the book until he could forget what time it was while reading the aforementioned novel. In this way, he settled on several books—one on Animagi that reminded him of Morgan, though the Animagi in the book were completely different; they actually turned _into_ animals, instead of simply conversing with them. Two others that caught his eye were on the subject of concealment charms, though he only ended up purchasing the one that was on basic concealment—it read more like a lady's guide for concealing unflattering marks and blemishes on the skin, which was what Harry thought he needed as he was quickly becoming annoyed at the cries of "Mr. Potter!" every time he left his room. He looked into another book on Shapeshifting, but it only seemed concerned with how to spot a shapeshifter and how to capture one if it came into your neighborhood. He did, however purchase one volume on rare magical creatures; he'd found some information on magical panthers and thought the book might come in handy if he met any other magical beasts while at Hogwarts.

When he became bored with his books, Harry often took a walk up to Ollivander's and had tea with the old man, as he found him a fascinating conversationalist, especially where wands were concerned. "Your wand especially has an interesting history, my boy," Ollivander began one rainy afternoon as Harry curled up in the armchair opposite Ollivander's, Onyx purring loudly from the rug on the floor in front of a large hearth where a fire roared merrily. "That wand of yours is not, as a matter of fact, one of mine."

Curious, Harry asked, "How do you know?"

"Because, my boy, and this is rather embarrassing to admit," Ollivander winked at Harry. "As a wand-maker I have to specialize in certain cores, otherwise my magic would be unable to build _any_ wand—I see I've lost you." Harry nodded, confused. "The way wand-making works is by using a bit of the builder's magic on the wand as sort of a… oh, what's the muggle term? Goo? Glue? Ah, that's it. As I said before, my magic acts as a glue between the core and the wand-wood, bonding them together permanently. Now, in order for this bonding to work, the builder's magic must be _tuned_ to that specific core. Otherwise, the components will just explode! That's why I can only work with specific materials, and werewolf heartstring is not one of them.

"Your wand," Ollivander continued, "came from the mountainous region around Bulgaria. I always make certain to keep one or two exotic wands around the shop, in case any such as yourself should wander in. The maker of that wand was a werewolf, himself, and used his own heartstrings in his wands—no, no, he's not dead! We wand-makers would quickly run out of materials if every time we needed a heartstring we had to kill a dragon or a werewolf! There's a method—I'm sure _you_ wouldn't be interested—we use to summon the heartstring from a subject. It's quite painless, I assure you.

"In any case, your wand was one of the first he created, and therefore is one of the most powerful. You see, boy, when a wand-maker first begins creating wands, he works with one core alone for several years before working with a new one. And then he uses that new core to the exclusion of all others for a few years. The cycle continues until the wand-maker figures out his best cores and then he will mix and match between those few cores. But I've kept you for too long. It's past time you were back at the Cauldron. Farewell for now, young Potter!"

So it was that the day to leave for King's Cross Station arrived. Harry soon discovered that he was one of _those_ people, who liked to pack everything five dozen bazillion times (each time a different way) before he was happy. After the five dozen bazillion-and-first time, however, Onyx finally tired of watching her master repeat the same process over and over and promptly lay down on top of Harry's trunk, glaring at him and growling menacingly if he _dared_ take a step toward it before Tom was ready to take Harry to King's Cross.

As ten o'clock rolled around, Tom busied himself dismissing his customers for the morning, telling them he would return by five o'clock that evening. The more stubborn drunkards he tossed out the back alleyway with a well-placed banishing spell. Tom counted himself lucky that business was so slow this late in the season. None of his rooms had been rented, bar Harry's of course, so he had no one to worry about for the day. As the final drunk stumbled outside the tavern mumbling slurred threats to the effect of, "Ne'er cummin' ba' 'ere 'm I. Nope. Bamned dertanders, alwehs makin' meh leaf. Ow! Merlin b'damned! Yowch!" (The unfortunate drunk had the misfortune to step on an alley cat's tail, which made for a _very_ unhappy kitty.), Tom yelled up the staircase to Harry that he would be ready to leave in a few moments.

Upstairs, Harry yelled back that he had heard, and moved to cajole Onyx off his trunk. "Please girl? I promise I won't open it, I just need to take it downstairs." Onyx glared balefully at Harry, promising pain for a long time to come if he did dare to open his trunk before they arrived at Hogwarts. Harry sent reassurances across the bond between them until Onyx finally relented. With a sigh of relief Harry started tugging his trunk down the stairs to where Tom was waiting. Harry had to make one more trip upstairs for his backpack and his creatures' respective cages before they were all ready to go. Munin found a perch on Harry's shoulder, while Onyx chose to curl up inside Harry's bag, as long as he left the zipper partway open so she could stick her head out if she so cared to.

Outside the tavern, Tom had summoned the Dae Bus for their use and was currently hauling Harry's trunk inside the vomit yellow double decker. Harry followed shortly thereafter and thus the journey began. The Dae Bus made five more stops to pick up other children like Harry who had no other way to get to King's Cross before finally pulling up next to a secret Wizarding entrance to the train station. It wouldn't do for the Muggles to see the Dae Bus—they might faint for the shock!

In no time at all, Harry found himself saying goodbye to Tom outside the barrier between tracks 9 and 10 and steeling himself for the trip across it. Tom had mentioned that all he had to do was run at the thing and he would find himself at Platform 9 ¾, but Harry was dubious about such a method of travel. He sighed, it was now or never. If he couldn't get past a simple barrier, imagine how the Wizarding world would feel toward their so-called savior. The Boy-Who-Lived-Only-To-Run-Away-In-Fright-Of-A-Simple-Magical-Doorway, indeed!

Harry banished all thoughts of failure from his head and started his trolley forward. About halfway to the barrier he hit a dead run and closed his eyes tightly, expecting a collision. The collision did occur, just not the way he thought it would. Instead of bouncing off a brick wall, Harry found himself following his trolley to the ground, and opened his eyes just in time to kiss it. "Ow," he muttered fervently. He'd have a bruise there come morning. A similar "ow" came from the area around the other trolley. Surprised, Harry sat up. _Too quickly!_ He thought, holding his head. He was surprised to see a girl sitting in a similar position on the other side of his trolley.

"Um… sorry about that," Harry offered as he stood up slowly, still holding his head. He smiled apologetically and held out his free hand to help the girl up.

She looked at him appraisingly with narrowed lavender eyes. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry's smile faltered and he lowered the offered appendage slowly as a grimace stole across his face instead. "Yeah, I'm him. What of it?"

The girl shrugged. "No offence meant, mate, I was only curious."

Harry shook his head then grimaced again, this time in physical pain. "Sorry. All summer it's been 'Oh, Harry!' this and 'Is that _you_, Mr. Potter?' that. I'm sick of it, frankly. Almost makes me regret—" he thought about that for a second. "Know what? Never mind. Just being able to do _this_," he spread his arms wide as if to encompass the entire Wizarding World, "is worth any amount of annoyance that this stupid fame has brought me."

The girl, still seated ignominiously amidst the fallen packages of Harry's trolley, applauded slowly. "Deep thoughts for such a young boy," she stated, grinning to take the bite out of her words. "Now that you're done speechifying, how's about helping a girl up?" She held out her hands, pantomiming a young child demanding her parents pick her up.

Harry blushed. "Sorry." He grasped both her hands and hauled her to her feet.

"Thanks," the girl replied. "By the way, I'm Guinevere. Gwen, to my friends. Who're you?"

Harry was slightly taken aback by the odd girl, though he hid his surprise immediately. She was… different, in a way, not like he was, of course, but still. Something about her was inherently _wrong_. He made a mental note to study her later, then realized she was still waiting for a response. "Harold. I'm kinda short on friends, though, so I guess you could just stick with Harry. Everybody else does."

Gwen leveled intense lavender eyes at the boy, studying. Harry felt vaguely like he was a slab of meat being scrutinized by a hungry feline.

She snapped out of her semi-trance a moment later, and promptly informed him that 'Harry' didn't suit him at _all._ "It's far too mundane a name for you. You're exotic, like a wolf or a bird of prey. And if you stand like this—" Gwen grabbed hold of Harry's hand and swung him about so he faced her in profile, silhouetted by the sun on his far side. "You look even less human. More like a hawk with those eyes…" her own violet orbs widened as she contemplated. "Definitely more like a hawk. I've got the perfect name for you. Kneel."

"What?" Harry stared uncomprehendingly at the strange girl, who had whipped out her wand.

"You heard me, boy. Kneel!" She brandished the wand at him threateningly. "Or I'll hex your toes off your feet and make you wear them as ears!"

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, getting down on one knee in front of her. A passerby cocked her head in confusion at what looked to her like a shot-gun proposal in miniature. _I'll never understand children these days._

Oblivious to the curious stares she was receiving, Gwen tapped her wand lightly once on each of Harry's shoulders. "By Merlin and the Gods above, and through the power invested in me by my mother and father through their actions eleven and one-half years ago, I do strip thee of thy present name Harry, and bestow upon thee a new one more fitting to one of your ilk. Arise, Hawk, and answer no more to your former title." With her final words she wove a figure eight through the air above the newly dubbed 'Hawk's head and punctuated it by stabbing once through the middle of each circle, before sheathing her wand with a flourish.

Hawk remained in his position for some time, thinking and trying to shake off the feeling that, although Gwen's 'ceremony' had been both impromptu and childish, _something_ had happened so that he was no longer 'Harry' Potter. He rose with a shrug a moment later, shoving his thoughts to the very rear of his mind. Gwen was staring at him oddly again. "I s'pose I should say 'thanks'?"

Gwen shrugged. "Harry was a stupid name. I gave you a better one. Now, c'mon, Hawk, we're gonna miss the train!"

Bemused, Hawk gathered up his supplies and trolley and followed Gwen onto the train, clutching the backpack with Onyx in it, who was still voicing her indignation at being an unwilling participant in Hawk's mishap. Munin had simply taken to the skies as Hawk fell, and so was none the worse for wear, but he insisted on following Hawk onto the train instead of perching as he normally did on the boy's shoulder.

* * *

On the train, Gwen beckoned to him from an empty compartment near the rear of the car. "In here, Hawk!" Hawk dutifully made his way down the car, doing his level best to ignore the whispers emanating from the compartments before his. With a sigh of relief, he finally reached Gwen's compartment and dropped his bag on the seat opposite her, eliciting another growl of indignation from his feline. Gwen glanced curiously at the bag and the bird who had found a perch on top of the baggage ledge above the seats. "I thought we could only bring one animal?" 

Hawk shrugged. "I'm the exception. I was shopping in Diagon Alley with Hagrid and he bought me Munin—that's the raven—without my knowledge and I had already chosen Onyx—she's the cat—as my pet-to-be."

Gwen scooted over in the seat and took a peek into Onyx's bag. "She's beautiful," she breathed. "Can you let her out?" Hawk nodded and opened the zipper on the bag fully, revealing the feline within.

Onyx leaped out of the puddle of fabric that was the unzipped pack and trotted over to Hawk. Green eyes locked with green, hers narrow with reproof, Hawk's sympathetic as he tapped into the cat's bundle of emotions at the back of his mind and saw her hurt and indignation at being thrown about like a sack of potatoes. "Sorry girl," he whispered to her, stroking her back. "I'm clumsy and stupid. I don't deserve to have such a beautiful creature. You deserve better." Onyx just meowed plaintively and butted her head against his hand, completely ignoring his apology. Hawk just chuckled, as by now he knew her hunger signals, so he dug through the Never-Full pouch (for all your kitty's needs, never lug around bags and bags of cat food again!) on the side of the cat carrier for a can of wet cat food, which Onyx was munching contentedly at a few moments later.

As Hawk finished his duties with Onyx, he glanced over at Gwen, only to see that Munin had decided the girl's hair would make a _much_ better roost for him than the cold metal of the luggage ledge. The girl was laughing as the bird walked back and forth on her shoulder blades, trying to figure out why there wasn't a pile of hair for him to settle down in. Finally Munin decided he had had enough, and settled on the flesh just to the side of Gwen's neck, partly hidden by the girl's long brown hair. Hawk took the opportunity of her distraction to really study the girl since he'd first bumped into her.

She wasn't the tallest of girls, almost half a head shorter than he was (and he _knew_ he wasn't the tallest beanstalk in the garden). Her hair was a rich chestnut brown that turned red when the sun hit it through the glass window of the compartment and her eyes… her eyes were the most striking part of her. Gwen's eyes were _purple_. Not just some really deep shade of blue, they were _purple_. Hawk thought of the last time he'd seen someone with eyes as startling as Gwen's. He had been about eight at the time, and had snuck out of his cupboard after curfew to see what it was his Aunt and Uncle were watching on the telly. It turned out to be an American picture in which the lead actress—he never caught her name—was talking to a man. Hawk remembered nothing else from the film except the actress, whose eyes were just as startling a violet as Gwen's were. As a matter of fact, he had no reason to remember the rest of the film because his Uncle Vernon had heard the boy's gasp of surprise when he caught his first glimpse of the actress and promptly threw Hawk back in his cupboard and didn't let him out until dinner the next night.

Hawk was distracted from his study of Gwen by the sound of the compartment door opening to reveal a familiar white-blond boy plus two new ogre-like companions. "Hello again," the boy said, inviting himself into the compartment. "I don't believe we were properly introduced last we met."

Hawk felt the beginnings of a sneer start to curl his lips, and did nothing to stop it as he remembered their first 'meeting' at Madame Malkin's. "Well look who it is. Daddy actually allowed you out of his sight?"

The boy, who had been about to extend his hand, stopped and offered a weak sneer of his own. "Father doesn't _allow_ me to do anything. I do as I wish."

"Mmm," Hawk nodded sagely. "So who're the goons? Protection?"

"Crabbe and Goyle, and no, they're not _protection_. Malfoys fight their own battles."

"Right. So that would make you what, a Chicken?" Gwen snickered quietly at Hawk's remark as she kept to the corner, stroking Munin and enjoying the 'show'.

The white-haired boy rolled his eyes heavenward. "Merlin help me," he muttered. "Crabbe, Goyle, leave us." The order issued, he ignored the two boys (who acted more like trolls than boys, Hawk thought) as they trundled up the corridor of the car and out of sight. "_I_ am a Malfoy, and as such will forgive you your slight on the basis of ignorance of our family, as you are obviously out of touch with our world." Harry snorted, but Malfoy continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Now that that business is settled, allow me to introduce myself _properly_. I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black. The remainder of the heritage is unimportant, as you would both probably be bored to tears. Merlin knows I am whenever I have to introduce myself at parties. Horrible inconvenience, that is, when you're trying to hold a conversation with someone. So, who, might I ask, are you?"

Hawk stood up and bowed mockingly to the boy, green eyes glinting, then stood as if he were on military review and recited his own line as he knew it. "Hawk Potter, son of James and Lily Potter and I won't tell you the rest, 'cause I don't know anymore, _sah!_"

"Hawk?" Draco's eyebrow rose.

Hawk grinned. "Her idea," he said, pointing to Gwen. "Before that I had another name, which I am forbidden to mention ever again under penalty of slow and tortuous death. That good enough for you, milady?" He looked pointedly at Gwen, who grinned back and shrugged nonchalantly.

"It'll have to do, I suppose," she said. "I guess it's my turn then. Guinevere Flanagan's the name, but call me anything except Gwen and I'll eviscerate you." She brandished her wand threateningly in Draco's direction, much like she had with Hawk earlier at the platform.

Draco backed up slowly until his back was pressed against the door. "Far be it from me to annoy the lady. Please, continue."

"Right, daughter of Elizabeth and Steve Flanagan, came over from the States seven years ago."

Draco looked surprised. "You're a Yank?"

Gwen shrugged. "I don't really think of myself as one, no. My family is actually pretty old. The Flanagans were originally from Ireland, but my ancestors moved to the Americas during the potato famine. A great great great," she paused, ticking off the greats on her fingers, "great Uncle of mine was shot to death by the muggle Al Capone. My family's actually the first to come back to the Isles since our ancestors left."

Draco looked impressed in spite of himself. Hawk only smirked. The blond needed to have some of his preconceptions crumble, and Hawk knew just how to pull him from his superiority pedestal even more. Gwen gave him a perfect opening. "So, now that you both know my life history, let's hear what your families have been up to."

Hawk jumped in before Draco could begin. "I personally don't know any of my ancestry, but I do have a couple of childhood tales you might be interested in…" he started off telling the story Hagrid had told him of leaving Hawk on the doorstep of his Aunt and Uncle's house. He continued with a few choice tales designed to show Draco that the life of the so-called Boy-Who-Lived was not all flowers and sunshine. He'd been abused, and he said as such. Draco could only gape, amazed as more and more of his preconceptions about the Boy-Who-Lived crumbled beneath his feet, leaving him feeling humbled and vaguely angry at his Father for lying to him about the Potter boy.

Hawk for his part was enjoying his tale immensely. Draco responded exactly the way he'd hoped. "… and now I find myself here, a bloody _wizard_. It'll take some getting used to." His audience, animals aside, looked dumbstruck. He allowed them a moment for everything to sink in, then turned to Draco. "Your turn, Drake. What's your family like?"

Draco looked about to reply, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "you lived in a _cupboard_?"

Hawk scowled and his eyes flashed yellow. "Please, don't get fixated on that. It was annoying enough in Diagon Alley when I couldn't walk two paces without running into some witch or wizard who was just _oh-so-thrilled!_ to meet the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I told you the tale to show you that some things aren't what they seem. Everyone else in the bloody world seemed to think I led a charmed life from the day I got the scar until today. I didn't need my friends thinking that too."

Draco shook his head violently. "My apologies. I must admit some amount of shock, but you are correct. It was a knee-jerk response."

Hawk inclined his head, eyes slowly returning to their normal coloration. "Accepted. Now. Bad manners doesn't get you out of your turn in the 'reveal your secrets to an almost total stranger' game, so spill!"

Draco winced, but nodded in acquiescence. "Very well then. Since we met the first time, I've been doing some thinking on the subject of my father. I've discovered that, like you said, Hawk, his philosophy is very one-sided, and I'm afraid I know nothing of the other side." Draco paced nervously. "I guess what I'm asking is if I could learn from you—either of you—what that other side is about. We won't have Muggle Studies as a class option until Third Year…Father kept his old letter from his own third year. I found it about a month ago," he added at the sight of Hawk's and Gwen's confused expressions. "So anyway, would either of you be interested? I just want to learn the basics of muggle society—all the better to insult them, of course," he added hastily, so as not to seem… _soft_ on the Muggles of the world.

Hawk pretended to think hard. "Hmm, well, we simply can't have you running about London and telling a muggle woman her outfit is gorgeous when she's wearing mismatched animal print (I find zebra stripe pants with leopard print tops particularly revolting), and then running away giggling like a schoolgirl as if it were the nastiest thing you could ever say to the woman, could we, Gwen?"

Gwen shook her head violently. "Of course not, my dear Hawk. Why, think of the embarrassment when he realizes he just complimented a woman on her horrendous taste—proving once and for all that he has no taste himself!"

The two tricksters gazed solemnly at one another for a moment, though Hawk's eyes betrayed his inner feelings (they were a swirling mix of emerald and sapphire), until Gwen couldn't contain her amusement any longer and burst out laughing. Hawk joined her a minute later, and Draco was quick to follow. Later, he'd never admit to anyone that he'd thought they were serious.

Hawk quieted down a moment later, and turned his amused gaze to Draco. "No worries, mate. Glad you've decided to think for yourself for a change."

Draco looked about to contest the boy's remark, but decided against it. He _was_ right, in a way. Now that he thought about it, Draco realized that this would indeed be the first time he learned about something without his father's influence coloring his own opinions. He shivered a little as a thrill of fear and excitement swept through him to his core. He felt like a very important test had been placed in front of him, and he had aced it. _A new path…_he mused silently.

"…from the trolley, dears?" A strange voice brought Draco out of his thoughts.

"I'm not really hungry. Either of you want anything?" Hawk looked at Gwen and Draco. Draco shook his head no.

"Unless you have kitty and bird treats, I don't need anything," Gwen said, turning her gaze to the old woman.

"Sorry, love. Only human treats on this trolley," the woman said with a gentle smile, and left the compartment, closing the door behind her.

The three new friends chatted inanely a while about various things; who the teachers would be, what the school was like, etcetera. Before too long, however the compartment door opened once more, revealing a bushy haired girl with slightly bucked teeth. "Excuse me, has anyone seen a toad around? Neville's lost one." Hawk looked to Draco and Gwen, who shook their heads in the negative; Hawk repeated the action toward the girl. "Alright," she said amicably. "Thanks for your help." With that she shut the door once more, leaving the trio to their discussions.

The next interruption came from a disembodied voice that emanated from somewhere above the compartment door. "_Attention students, we will be arriving at Hogwarts shortly. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken up separately._"

"Finally," Gwen murmured, pulling on her robe. "Come on, you two! The suspense is killing me!"

"Then die already and leave me in peace," Hawk retorted, smacking Gwen across her head. "We're coming, hold on." He dressed quickly and gathered Onyx in his arms. He wasn't about to leave _her_ to whatever it was that took the children's belongings up to the castle. "Hey Gwen can you grab—"

"Already got him," Gwen replied, patting the back of her neck where a bulge interrupted the smooth fall of her hair.

"Thanks," Hawk grinned at her and followed her and Draco out of the compartment and onto the platform.

* * *

"Firs' years! Firs' years o'er here!" A familiar voice rang in Hawk's ears as he stepped off the train. He smiled, recalling the kindness of the gigantic man, and waved to him, cradling Onyx to his neck. Hagrid spotted him almost immediately amidst the sea of first years and called to him. "Alrigh' there, Harry?" Hawk gave a nod and made a mental note to inform Hagrid of his new nickname. 

He dashed up the path to the lake, where Hagrid was waiting in front of a long queue of rowboats. Except… these boats didn't have any oars, which confused Hawk. He wondered about that, not paying attention to where he was going until he bumped into the bushy-haired girl from the train and knocked her down to the ground. "Sorry," he said, putting Onyx down so he could give the girl a hand up. "I wasn't looking."

She shrugged and grinned. "No worries. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I remember you from the train. Who're you?"

"Hawk," the black-haired boy replied, and shook her outstretched hand. "Now if you don't mind, I was trying to find my other friends. Would you care to join us?" he added as Hagrid's instruction of "no more'n four ter a boat!" rang out.

Hermione nodded. "Sure!"

Hawk led the girl through the throngs of first years until he finally caught a glimpse of a silver-haired boy and a black raven, which was currently perched on his female companion's head, much to her chagrin.

"Hermione, allow me to introduce Draco Malfoy and Guinevere Flanagan, called Gwen. The bird on her head is Munin, and my feline companion you've already met. She's called Onyx. Guys, this here's Hermione Granger."

Draco's eyes narrowed even as he stuck out a hand to shake her own. "Granger, huh? Not pureblood then?"

Hermione looked confused, but shook her head anyway. "I was the first witch ever in our family, if that's what you mean."

Draco nodded, gray eyes still narrowed and focused on the girl. He looked about to make another comment, but Hawk cuffed the side of his head. "First lesson, Drake. No stereotypes. And don't look at me that way, I saw how you were _studying_ her! She's a witch, you're a wizard. She's the first in her family, you're the final product of a long line of interbreeding and _purification_." He spat the last word as if it were filth. "These things don't mean _squat_ in the long run. So she's Muggle-born. So what? Her heritage has _no_ impact whatsoever on how good a witch she is. And you too, Drake. You could've had no magic at all! Think _beyond_ your father's lessons. It's the only way you're ever going to be able to grasp what you want Gwen and me to teach you." By the end of his tirade Hawk was panting slightly and his eyes gleamed amber. He stared at Draco until the boy snapped out of the slight daze Hawk's swipe had put him in and nodded in the affirmative.

"Sorry, Hawk. I'll do better." He turned to Hermione. "Forgive me? My father has taught me poor lessons, and my two friends here are trying to fix that." Hermione nodded, in a bit of a daze, herself.

"Hey, um, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but are y'all just going to stand there, or are we going to leave? We're the last boat as it is." Sure enough, the second-to-last boat had pulled off the bank _using magic, I see,_ thought Hawk, marking the earlier mental note he'd made "solved".

The four children stepped quickly into their craft along with Onyx and Munin and with a lurch the boat quietly began its journey along the lake toward Hogwarts castle.

* * *

As the boat pulled silently up on the opposite bank of the lake and beached itself, all three human pairs of eyes (and one not-so-human) were opened wide at the sight before them. The castle had seemed to rise up out of the lake itself, cloaked in a thick mist that coated the surface of the lake. It was, in a word, magnificent to behold. Like a traditional medieval castle, four spires rose above the main structure, one per corner. Stained glass windows lined every floor, glowing cheerfully with candlelight from within. The entire structure emanated a feeling of warmth and protection that all four children felt as though they were finally coming _home._

Gwen was the first to recover from the initial shock of seeing the castle for the first time and stepped out of the boat, Munin cawing as she slipped in the mud on the shore and almost went down. The others followed her, carefully though so they didn't meet the same end. The small group hurried up the hillside to join the rest of the first years at the great oaken doors that marked the main entrance into the castle.

_THUMP… THUMP… THUMP_ Hagrid's large fist pounded a third time on the doors as Hawk, Gwen, Hermione, and Draco rejoined the group, panting. Hawk still cradled Onyx, but as the doors began to open the cat hissed and struggled against the young boy's arms. "What's wrong?" he asked her, trying to soothe the beast, but Onyx wouldn't have any of it. Her teeth sank into the boy's forearm and he yelped, drawing stares from the rest of the first years. Onyx took advantage of his distraction by leaping out of his arms and racing across the grounds toward the forest surrounding the castle. Hawk looked on helplessly and tried to figure out what would've made her run in such a way by the emotional bundle still in the back of his head, but all he could make out was a strong feeling of abject terror, which only served to frighten Hawk as well.

Gwen looked askance at Hawk, but he could only shrug as a gray-haired witch conversed with Hagrid and looked about to address them all. "…Follow me please," were the only words Hawk got, as worried as he was about Onyx. He stared out over the grounds as the first years slowly made their way inside the castle until Gwen had to finally tug his robes to get him to pay attention and start moving.

The group of eleven-year-olds stopped again outside the doors leading into the Great Hall. The gray-haired witch again spoke, but so focused was Hawk on the emotions he was still receiving from Onyx he didn't register a bit of it. Onyx seemed to have calmed down—she was no longer terrified, and so Hawk sent a query her way as best he could. She responded in surprise—in her terror she seemed to have forgotten all about Hawk—but she sent back a reassuring purr, which was odd, considering it was an emotion, but Hawk didn't know how else to describe the feeling his feline had sent him. He was about to send back another question, but the witch had once again appeared and was now ushering the first years into the Great Hall to be Sorted.

* * *

Hawk listened half-heartedly as the Sorting Hat sang (and rather poorly, he thought) about the House choices available, and what one might be Sorted into if one was of a certain temperament. The Hat finished its song with a flourish and looked rather satisfied as the same witch who'd ushered the first year students in took up position next to the Hat and began reading names from a scroll. "Abbot, Hannah!" was first, and went straight to Hufflepuff. The Sorting continued in that vein, with some students taking longer than others until it was Gwen's turn. 

"Looks like I'm first, eh?" she said in an overly cheerful voice as "Flanagan, Guinevere!" was called. She approached the stool warily, as if afraid of what the Hat might say to her, but it turned out she had no cause for alarm. The Hat made no mention of anything excepting that she would do well in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and after a moment made a decision and the call of "_RAVENCLAW!"_ rang through the air.

Of the four, "Granger, Hermione!" was next, and her Sorting went even faster than Gwen's had. She quickly joined the growing ranks of Gryffindor and the witch made to call out the next name.

Both Draco and Hawk were dancing on their heels as Draco's turn approached. _He_, at least had nothing to worry about. His entire family had been members of the Slytherin House, and although he wanted to think for himself for once, he wasn't _quite_ ready to break the ties with Slytherin that had been set since long before his great-grandfather was born. Hawk on the other hand was rocking nervously for a radically different reason. Onyx had been hunting in the forest—he'd felt her craving for meat—but had found something _else_ hiding in the bushes and was currently in a battle for her life. Hawk knew she could hold her own, but she was still a kitten, and he was worried. As such he completely missed Draco's Sorting, only registering the call of "_SLYTHERIN!"_ that resounded in the Hall and applauding along with the rest of the first years. Suddenly he felt the emotions in the back of his head shift to a _very_ satisfied purr, and Hawk relaxed for the moment with the knowledge that Onyx was safe. He stood calmly for the next few names, but then had to start fidgeting. He was _bored_! Then the call came: "Potter, Harry!" _Finally,_ Hawk thought as the witch up front called his name. He started to head to the stool, but paused as he remembered what Gwen had said to him on the train. Not that he wasn't brave, _but_… he didn't particularly look forward to the idea of being dismembered on his first day of school. He looked, therefore, to the Ravenclaw table where his friend sat and asked the question with his eyes. She seemed to chuckle a little, but inclined her head enough for Hawk to know he had her "permission" to acknowledge his old name.

"Potter, Harry!" Professor Minerva McGonagall's voice rose a pitch as she searched desperately for the Boy-Who-Lived when he did not answer the first summons. Whispering immediately broke out in the Great Hall, and Minerva looked nervously back at the Headmaster, but he'd already turned his attention to the front of the room, eyebrows raised in surprise. Following his gaze, Minerva twisted sharply on her heel and managed _not_ to fall over on her robes even as she did a double-take when the savior of the Wizarding World ascended the small stairway that separated the Head Table from the remainder of the hall.

The boy who walked up to the Sorting Hat's stool was small and slender, like most of the first years, but what Minerva didn't count on was the _scent_ of the child. Too many years as an Animagus coupled with _far_ too many scouting missions in the War (in her opinion, at least) had given the Transfiguration professor the senses of her animal counterpart while in human form. She wasn't normally troubled by them (and also the ability to see in the dark when the students were unable to was a bonus for her nightly hall patrol), even during the Sortings when so many children were gathered in such a small space. _But this child…_ she watched as he placed the Sorting Hat on his head only to have it envelope his entire head down to the middle of his neck. _This child was different._ He had a—not a swagger, but a _stalk_ to his walk that she was certain was unintentional. _Unlike that Malfoy boy's_, she thought as she watched the Hat's "lips" move—silently to all except the child beneath the brim, though Minerva had managed during the years to be able to pick out a phrase here and there. _"Where to put you?"_ was always somewhere in the Hat's repertoire, as were the stock descriptions of _"loyal", "cunning", "intelligent", _or _"brave", _depending on the House the Hat was considering. From the boy's conversation with the Sorting Hat, she had already seen the "intelligent" and "cunning" phrases mentioned, and _ah—_there were the other two, as well. Usually by this time, Minerva had an idea of where the Hat was about to place the student, but with Harry, she really could not tell. The Hat didn't seem to be in any rush to Sort the boy—in fact, it seemed to be having a full conversation with the child! Minerva couldn't help but wonder what was so special about this child, aside from the obvious, of course, that warranted a—it looked more like an _argument_ now—between the Hat and the Boy-Who-Lived?

Finally, as if in answer to her unasked question the Hat yelled out a word and the boy got up, set the Hat back down on its stool, and dashed off to join his Housemates. Minerva was floored. She looked back at the Headmaster, but he was just as surprised as she. Minerva stared after the boy for a moment, then shook herself out of her daze and called the next name, all the while thinking: _How in Merlin's name did James Potter's _son_ get placed in Slytherin?_

_And that, my pretties, is that. Thought I would leave you hanging there for a moment, didn't you? Naw, I'm not that cruel. Besides, my updates are too sporadic for a cliffhanger to do any sort of good other than frustrate the hell out of y'all until finally you lose interest. I should know, I've been party to that emotion on several occasions. ;D Hope you enjoyed this latest installment. Next update may be… a while yet, but it's summer and I'm only working 40 hours a week, shit. I'll probably crank another one out before I leave you all for an even _longer_ period of time, also known as the beginning of my college eddykashun. Go Drexel! Please note, however, that the hiatus will NOT be forever! I REFUSE to leave this behemoth unfinished. I've written about sixty pages so far, and half that again is word processed, so no worries, kiddies. It may be the year 2010 before this fic is complete, but mark my words it WILL be complete!_

_Now, fic-related stuff: either in the next chapter or as a one-shot I will be putting up Hawk's point of view of the Sorting Hat experience. I liked McGonagall's better for the actual Sorting, though, so nyeh. That'll be up whenever I get around to it. _

**_Um, also! And I'd _REALLY_ like your opinions on this. _**_Is Hawk in character (as much as he can be for this fic)? It may be because I'm the author, but his character seems to jump around a bit on the emotional spectrum. I'd like someone's help to try and keep him as much of a constant as possible so I can let him evolve properly, instead of sporadically. I guess what I'm asking for is a character-beta, to put it technically. If you're interested, just leave a review with an analysis for that chapter on Hawk. Or any of the other characters, if you feel they could use fine-tuning whips out hammer should be interesting._

_Alrighty__ Here's where I stop sounding like I've had too many AP classes this past year (and I have, trust me) and you all leave your thoughts on the chapter. Please and thank you!_

_Thanks to: **Cayenne****, SadnessAndSorrow, angelkitty77, lonlyheart, Suicidal Bunnies, Manny2003, Shdwolf, HecateDeMort, Shadowed Rains**_

**_Lukiea_****_ Johnson_**_ – No, I can definitely say that this fic will NOT be slash in the future. As a matter of fact, I hadn't really considered any pairing for Hawk until he's much older. I'm sorry if this fact means you will not continue to read my story, but them's the breaks. Glad you've enjoyed it so far, though._

**_GoldenTrioPWG_**_ – Discontinue? Me? Never:shies away from the spork-wielding reviewer: As to the birthday bit, you're right, it is on Halloween. Depending on computer access and the laziness level of yours truly, that little fact may or may not be fixed before the end of the fic. After it's complete, I'm gonna edit it once more (I've found a couple of errors so far that make me want to cringe at my own stupidity) and then re-post it._

**_Rachel Sedai_**_ – YES:dances: I made a reviewer lose sleep! You don't know HOW much of an ego-booster that is. I too have spent long nights reading excellent fanfiction, and it flatters me that you would take so much time of your own to read my story. Thank you!_

**_monica_**_- :smiles mysteriously: all will be revealed in good time, my child. No fear._

**_Black-Raven3_**_ – Morgan probably won't be seen again for a long while, so no fear. I'm also a proud card-carrying member of the 'We Hate Manipulative!Dumbledore' club. There will be a lot of that here… and a lot of Harry 'wolfing out' as it were before he gains more control over himself. Not to give any secrets away, though, of course:D_

**_kagomepotter_**_ – Thanks for that… must've been a brain-fart on my part to not remember Munin is memory (it's also spelled wrong, which I discovered to my deep chagrin) As I said earlier, that fact may not be addressed until I finish the fic and re-edit it for those glaring errors. :sigh:_

_:dances: Yay! I'm at the 100 mark! Whoo! I had actually not planned to post until I hit 100 reviews, but for a while that didn't look like it was going to happen, but lo and behold! Hot damn, thank you all!_


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